Redemption is a Process 24
Title: Redemption is a Process
Verse: Heroes
Characters: Sylar-centric, ensemble cast
Pairings: Sylar/Claire, References to Sylar/Mohinder, Sylar/Elle
Rating: Mature, may contain adult situations, language, violence, sex
Plot: Story picks up midway into the idea that Sylar is trying to live the straight and narrow working for the company.
Sylar has been given his freedom, tentatively, and things are going back to normal. Well, as normal as life can be for a power hungry, brain sucking, company agent who's trying to make a life for himself...
Sylar and Claire grow closer. Mama Petrelli is dreaming and Noah Bennet isnt nearly as smart as he thinks he is.
..
Sylar and Claire
St Johnsbury, Vermont
The morning was clear and crisp. Claire stretched her arms and yawned. She nestled closer to her husband with a light smile. Why couldn’t life be as simple as this? She looked over at Sylar’s calm face. In sleep, he looked very different from the intense eyed killer of his waking hours. He looked vulnerable... human. She smirked as she trailed her hand under the covers. Sylar inhaled sharply but didn’t wake. Quite human as it turned out.
Claire looked at the clock. It was almost eight. She was hoping to get Sylar to agree to a stroll down Main Street and Antique Square. She wanted to pick up a couple of things for her mom. Maybe a tasty breakfast would encourage a positive response from her husband on shopping. She looked over at him again, probably not. Men just weren’t wired that way. She slipped out of bed and grabbed her robe. She smiled lightly. Could life get any stranger? She couldn’t say she really minded a bit.
-=-=-==-=-=-=-
Noah and Mohinder
St Johnsbury, Vermont
“I've done some recon around town. We have a potential.”
“A potential... for what?”
“Not what. Who.”
Mohinder stopped up short. “You mean you found a special.”
“Looks that way, yeah.” Noah dropped an extra clip for his auto into his jacket pocket. “It’s a good starting point. We’ll just hang back and see what happens.”
Mohinder nodded, “Of course. Wait and see what happens.”
“You don’t need to worry. There are two agents on surveillance and then there will be us. We’ve got this covered. He makes a move and he goes down.. for good.” He patted the scientist on the shoulder. “You ready?”
“Hardly, let’s just get on with it.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Claire gasped. “Isn’t this just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen,” she gushed. She held up a little ceramic Pomeranian. “Mom will love this, it looks just like Mister Muggles!”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Yeah, adorable. Can we go now?”
“We’ve only been shopping a couple of hours, you know,” Claire stated with a grin.
“Seems like an eternity,” Sylar lamented.
“Ok, ok,” she laughed. Claire paid for her purchase and they weaved their way through the throngs of sidewalk shoppers. She laced her arm through his as they walked. “I’m glad it turned out to be such a nice day. I want to stay outside all day if we can.”
“Not shopping, I hope.”
“No, I promise I won't do that to you. Do you like to hike?”
Sylar shrugged, “I grew up in New York. Didn’t get much of a chance to hike. Sounds ok though.”
“There’s a fall not too far from the cottage and some nice areas for a picnic. As long as the weather holds out I thought we could give it a try.”
“We’re gonna “rough it” huh?” Sylar gave her a squeeze.
She smiled, “I don’t know that I would call a picnic in the woods, “roughing it” but it’s really beautiful around here. Relaxing, private.”
“I sense an ulterior motive,” he replied thoughtfully.
Claire blinked at him, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Uh huh, come on, let’s hear your diabolical plan,” he coaxed.
Claire stopped and looked up at him. “I don’t have a diabolical plan! I just thought... you know, good food... good conversation.”
His eyebrows shot up, “Oh man, you want to talk about feelings and crap don’t you?”
“How else are we supposed to get to know each other better,” Claire frowned at him.
Sylar shook his head, “What do you want to know? You already know all the major stuff. How can knowing my favorite color help anything?”
“This isn’t about knowing your favorite color,” she sighed. “And yeah, I know past events. But I don’t know them from your perspective.”
“You don’t want to go there, Claire, nothing good will come of it.” His eyes darkened slightly.
“All right, but what about how you're feeling now. About what we’re trying to do.”
“I'm here aren’t I? Doesn't that say everything?”
“No, it doesn't,” Claire was getting frustrated. He wasn’t going to clam up on her now. They had come too far. “I just have some thoughts, some questions, and I figured we could...”
“What happened to no expectations?” he interrupted.
“No expectations, doesn't mean you don’t have to try!” she stated emphatically.
“Try? That’s all I do is try. I try not to hurt people. I try to be a good person. I try to be what everyone else wants me to be. What more could I possible try!” his voice rose and people around them turned to stare.
Claire scanned the crowd, “This is probably not the best place for this conversation.”
“There is no good place for this conversation,” he said with finality. “I’m going to find a Starbucks. Just.. just finish your shopping. I’ll see you later.” With that he turned and strode off leaving Claire confused and a little hurt.
-==-=-=-=--=-=-=-
Sylar shoved his hands in his jean pockets and put his head down. Was she serious? All the things that had happened in his past and she wanted to talk about it? This wasn’t some fucking therapy session. Claire was his wife. He wasn’t sure what he expected from this “vacation” of theirs and the whole getting “closer” but talking about things he wanted to forget wasn’t it.
Frankly, he had been hoping that it involved a lot of time rolling around in bed. Maybe some soft words and cuddling on his part, he could do that for her, no problem. But delving into “feelings”? God, women were weird. Better to leave things unsaid, better to not look into the abyss because he knew from experience that the abyss did look back.
Besides, he didn’t owe anyone any explanations. He wouldn’t apologize for his horrific acts. He couldn’t, because if he did that, then he would have to admit to his guilt. Over time, he had been able to turn his emotions off when the need arose. He gained nothing in recalling those feelings to the surface. The last time he’d done that, he had tried to hang himself. He wouldn’t put himself on display as the poster boy for redemption. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he wanted redemption.
His ability tickled at the back of his mind. It was like Pavlov’s dogs salivating at the bell. It beckoned like a siren, so much power, so much to understand. But it was so lonely.
Sylar sighed. He needed to apologize to Claire. Storming off wasn’t going to accomplish anything. He shook his head. He didn’t need this distraction. He should be concentrating on his new ability, honing it, not playing house with the cheerleader. But he liked his relationship with Claire. She was the closest thing to family that he had. Family should be important. It should mean something.
It shouldn’t be this hard. Even a bastard like his father was able to accomplish a family. He paused in his thoughts, yeah, back that one up, it didn’t exactly end well. His father murdered his mother in front of him then sold him for the first cash offer. Not exactly a glowing recommendation on the merits of family.
And his adopted family, what a joke. A would-be father that left as fast as he could get away, and a mother just this side of crazier than a loon. He’d tried to please her as best as he knew how.. but that ended in blood. Just like all his relationships had ended, with hatred, fear, blood, and death. Is that really what he wanted for Claire? If he cared anything at all for her, he’d leave while she was still in one piece and relatively sane he told himself. But then he’d be all alone again.
Something brushed across his senses like the feather touch of a ghost. Sylar stopped up short and looked around. He knew the sensation, he knew it very well. Someone with ability was close by. Whatever the power, it was subtle, or at least it was subtly being used. His eyes dilated and he honed in on the direction of the energy. Just up the block on the left, all he had to do was follow his senses and they would lead him right to the target.
He took a deep breath. No, no, no, not a target. That train of thought would get him into trouble. This wasn’t such a good idea after all. He should get back to Claire. Keep his attention focused on her, where it belonged.
Instead of heading straight down the street towards trouble he didn’t need, Sylar turned the nearest corner deciding to walk off his doubts and confusion. He’d find Claire and they’d do the picnic thing. If she really wanted to talk then he’d find a way to tell her what she wanted to hear. He could keep it together. He could be the man she needed him to be.
His mind now calm and resolved, Sylar smiled lightly to himself then glanced across the street. Through the plate glass window of the small bistro he caught sight of a head of curly black hair.
“Mohinder,” he growled.
-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-
Mohinder walked back to the motel slowly. He would rather be anywhere than back in that room. It was a nice enough day if a little chill. He could find a park bench and eat his lunch there. He sighed, no, Bennet wouldn’t like that. The company man wanted them to stay out of sight. They were dodging not only their quarry but the team Angela had sent to keep an eye on the couple.
Bennet had gone to check on the possible “special” and see what intel he would find on him. Then he was going to check in on Claire and make sure she was ok. Of course she wasn’t ok. She was married to a murdering monster, Mohinder thought. That was about as far from ok as one could get.
About ten minutes later Mohinder found himself, key in hand, outside his motel room. He felt a sudden chill against his skin. *They're out there Mohinder, and we’ll find them. We’ll find them all.* He trembled slightly. He had no doubt that if he hadn’t run across the article on Zane Taylor’s murder that Sylar would have done just that. How many more would have died? How many more would be on his conscience?
Mohinder shut the door behind him and found himself thrown forward into the wall. His face smashed into plaster splitting his lip.
“Well, who do we have here?” A low, raspy voice inquired.
The geneticist’s heart caught in his throat.
“Hello Mohinder, it’s been a long time.”
Sylar pressed in close to the pinned man. His breath ghosted along the man’s neck. He inhaled deeply. “Mmm, you still smell like spice.”
Mohinder closed his eyes. He couldn’t stop the fear that crawled along his skin making him shiver.
“Aw, you're trembling for me, that’s so sweet,” Sylar rasped. “I remember us being in this position before. Only I wasn’t pinning you with telekinesis.”
Mohinder found his voice, “Just do whatever it is you're going to do and get it over with.”
“Do? Why Mohinder, I'm a married man now. There won't be any *doing*... at least not with you.”
“I hate you so much,” hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
Sylar pressed in tight. Mohinder could feel his chest muscles against his back. His skin was like fire. He felt the air around them compress until it was hard for him to breathe. He was starting to panic when Sylar stepped away.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t hurt you. I don’t need to... do I.”
Mohinder drew in a ragged gasp of air.
“I'm thinking that it’s not a coincidence that you happen to be in the same Podunk little Vermont town am I, right? No, I'm guessing you're here with something specific in mind.” Sylar braced himself against the wall with one arm. “And since I think it unlikely that you would come after me all on your own then I have to assume you have cohorts.”
Sylar breathed into his ear, “Should I guess?” He changed sides, whispering into the other ear, “I'm going out on a limb here and saying you're here with my father-in-law, am I right?”
“Like I said, whatever you're going to do just get it over with.”
Sylar chuckled, “You always did have more heart than brains, which is saying a lot because you're a smart guy. And because you're a smart guy I’m going to give you a chance to make it right. Go back to New York, leave Claire and me alone.”
The pressure around him relaxed and Mohinder turned to face his tormentor. “I like you, I really do, but you know I will do what I have to do to protect what’s mine. This is the only warning you’ll get. Stay away from me. Better yet, stay away from Noah Bennet. He’ll just get you killed.”
Mohinder swallowed the lump in his throat. “That refrain is getting a bit old don’t you think? You’re either trying to kill me or you want my help. You need to make up your mind.”
Sylar cocked his head, “I'm just giving you some sound advice.” The killer took a step back and gave Mohinder an appraising look.
Mohinder scoffed openly, “I know how concerned you are for my welfare.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your welfare but I do care about Claire. Threatening my relationship will put you on my shit list real quick.”
“So I'm supposed to believe you have Claire’s welfare in mind or just your own?”
“I don’t care what you believe. Back off now... while you still can.”
“What are you worried about, Sylar? If you're not doing anything wrong then there’s no reason for you to worry about Bennet or me. Is there?”
Mohinder felt a sudden pressure on his throat. He felt himself being hoisted upwards along the wall. He was already on tiptoes as his vision blackened around the edges. “What are… you hiding..,” Mohinder choked out, “That has you so worried?”
Sylar smiled unpleasantly, “Do I look worried?” Suddenly the force of telekinesis was gone and Mohinder slid to the floor in a heap. “Look, man to man, I figure I owe you that much.” Sylar took a couple of steps back and raised his hands slightly, “I’m really trying to be a good person for Claire. Trying to be the kind of husband she deserves but I don’t respond well to pressure. Just leave us alone. I can do this... if everyone will just leave us be. Isn’t that what everyone wants... to stop the killings?”
Mohinder looked at him incredulously, “You really are that out of touch with reality aren’t you?”
Sylar's expression darkened dangerously, “Not the way to get on my good side.”
“You don’t have a good side. You're psychotic! You think that you can just walk away from your past? You think people will just forgive and forget because you decide not to kill anymore? There are consequences. You made your choice and you will have to live with it for the rest of your days. Count on it!”
“Well, this is going nowhere,” Sylar offered with a small sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t try.” Sylar turned to leave. “Oh by the way,” he turned back, “Tell Bennet the honeymoon has been really special so far.” Sylar smiled. “Claire has become some kinda woman, she knows what she likes... she knows what I like too.”
Sylar winked as he closed the door.
Verse: Heroes
Characters: Sylar-centric, ensemble cast
Pairings: Sylar/Claire, References to Sylar/Mohinder, Sylar/Elle
Rating: Mature, may contain adult situations, language, violence, sex
Plot: Story picks up midway into the idea that Sylar is trying to live the straight and narrow working for the company.
Sylar has been given his freedom, tentatively, and things are going back to normal. Well, as normal as life can be for a power hungry, brain sucking, company agent who's trying to make a life for himself...
Sylar and Claire grow closer. Mama Petrelli is dreaming and Noah Bennet isnt nearly as smart as he thinks he is.
..
Sylar and Claire
St Johnsbury, Vermont
The morning was clear and crisp. Claire stretched her arms and yawned. She nestled closer to her husband with a light smile. Why couldn’t life be as simple as this? She looked over at Sylar’s calm face. In sleep, he looked very different from the intense eyed killer of his waking hours. He looked vulnerable... human. She smirked as she trailed her hand under the covers. Sylar inhaled sharply but didn’t wake. Quite human as it turned out.
Claire looked at the clock. It was almost eight. She was hoping to get Sylar to agree to a stroll down Main Street and Antique Square. She wanted to pick up a couple of things for her mom. Maybe a tasty breakfast would encourage a positive response from her husband on shopping. She looked over at him again, probably not. Men just weren’t wired that way. She slipped out of bed and grabbed her robe. She smiled lightly. Could life get any stranger? She couldn’t say she really minded a bit.
-=-=-==-=-=-=-
Noah and Mohinder
St Johnsbury, Vermont
“I've done some recon around town. We have a potential.”
“A potential... for what?”
“Not what. Who.”
Mohinder stopped up short. “You mean you found a special.”
“Looks that way, yeah.” Noah dropped an extra clip for his auto into his jacket pocket. “It’s a good starting point. We’ll just hang back and see what happens.”
Mohinder nodded, “Of course. Wait and see what happens.”
“You don’t need to worry. There are two agents on surveillance and then there will be us. We’ve got this covered. He makes a move and he goes down.. for good.” He patted the scientist on the shoulder. “You ready?”
“Hardly, let’s just get on with it.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Claire gasped. “Isn’t this just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen,” she gushed. She held up a little ceramic Pomeranian. “Mom will love this, it looks just like Mister Muggles!”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Yeah, adorable. Can we go now?”
“We’ve only been shopping a couple of hours, you know,” Claire stated with a grin.
“Seems like an eternity,” Sylar lamented.
“Ok, ok,” she laughed. Claire paid for her purchase and they weaved their way through the throngs of sidewalk shoppers. She laced her arm through his as they walked. “I’m glad it turned out to be such a nice day. I want to stay outside all day if we can.”
“Not shopping, I hope.”
“No, I promise I won't do that to you. Do you like to hike?”
Sylar shrugged, “I grew up in New York. Didn’t get much of a chance to hike. Sounds ok though.”
“There’s a fall not too far from the cottage and some nice areas for a picnic. As long as the weather holds out I thought we could give it a try.”
“We’re gonna “rough it” huh?” Sylar gave her a squeeze.
She smiled, “I don’t know that I would call a picnic in the woods, “roughing it” but it’s really beautiful around here. Relaxing, private.”
“I sense an ulterior motive,” he replied thoughtfully.
Claire blinked at him, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Uh huh, come on, let’s hear your diabolical plan,” he coaxed.
Claire stopped and looked up at him. “I don’t have a diabolical plan! I just thought... you know, good food... good conversation.”
His eyebrows shot up, “Oh man, you want to talk about feelings and crap don’t you?”
“How else are we supposed to get to know each other better,” Claire frowned at him.
Sylar shook his head, “What do you want to know? You already know all the major stuff. How can knowing my favorite color help anything?”
“This isn’t about knowing your favorite color,” she sighed. “And yeah, I know past events. But I don’t know them from your perspective.”
“You don’t want to go there, Claire, nothing good will come of it.” His eyes darkened slightly.
“All right, but what about how you're feeling now. About what we’re trying to do.”
“I'm here aren’t I? Doesn't that say everything?”
“No, it doesn't,” Claire was getting frustrated. He wasn’t going to clam up on her now. They had come too far. “I just have some thoughts, some questions, and I figured we could...”
“What happened to no expectations?” he interrupted.
“No expectations, doesn't mean you don’t have to try!” she stated emphatically.
“Try? That’s all I do is try. I try not to hurt people. I try to be a good person. I try to be what everyone else wants me to be. What more could I possible try!” his voice rose and people around them turned to stare.
Claire scanned the crowd, “This is probably not the best place for this conversation.”
“There is no good place for this conversation,” he said with finality. “I’m going to find a Starbucks. Just.. just finish your shopping. I’ll see you later.” With that he turned and strode off leaving Claire confused and a little hurt.
-==-=-=-=--=-=-=-
Sylar shoved his hands in his jean pockets and put his head down. Was she serious? All the things that had happened in his past and she wanted to talk about it? This wasn’t some fucking therapy session. Claire was his wife. He wasn’t sure what he expected from this “vacation” of theirs and the whole getting “closer” but talking about things he wanted to forget wasn’t it.
Frankly, he had been hoping that it involved a lot of time rolling around in bed. Maybe some soft words and cuddling on his part, he could do that for her, no problem. But delving into “feelings”? God, women were weird. Better to leave things unsaid, better to not look into the abyss because he knew from experience that the abyss did look back.
Besides, he didn’t owe anyone any explanations. He wouldn’t apologize for his horrific acts. He couldn’t, because if he did that, then he would have to admit to his guilt. Over time, he had been able to turn his emotions off when the need arose. He gained nothing in recalling those feelings to the surface. The last time he’d done that, he had tried to hang himself. He wouldn’t put himself on display as the poster boy for redemption. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he wanted redemption.
His ability tickled at the back of his mind. It was like Pavlov’s dogs salivating at the bell. It beckoned like a siren, so much power, so much to understand. But it was so lonely.
Sylar sighed. He needed to apologize to Claire. Storming off wasn’t going to accomplish anything. He shook his head. He didn’t need this distraction. He should be concentrating on his new ability, honing it, not playing house with the cheerleader. But he liked his relationship with Claire. She was the closest thing to family that he had. Family should be important. It should mean something.
It shouldn’t be this hard. Even a bastard like his father was able to accomplish a family. He paused in his thoughts, yeah, back that one up, it didn’t exactly end well. His father murdered his mother in front of him then sold him for the first cash offer. Not exactly a glowing recommendation on the merits of family.
And his adopted family, what a joke. A would-be father that left as fast as he could get away, and a mother just this side of crazier than a loon. He’d tried to please her as best as he knew how.. but that ended in blood. Just like all his relationships had ended, with hatred, fear, blood, and death. Is that really what he wanted for Claire? If he cared anything at all for her, he’d leave while she was still in one piece and relatively sane he told himself. But then he’d be all alone again.
Something brushed across his senses like the feather touch of a ghost. Sylar stopped up short and looked around. He knew the sensation, he knew it very well. Someone with ability was close by. Whatever the power, it was subtle, or at least it was subtly being used. His eyes dilated and he honed in on the direction of the energy. Just up the block on the left, all he had to do was follow his senses and they would lead him right to the target.
He took a deep breath. No, no, no, not a target. That train of thought would get him into trouble. This wasn’t such a good idea after all. He should get back to Claire. Keep his attention focused on her, where it belonged.
Instead of heading straight down the street towards trouble he didn’t need, Sylar turned the nearest corner deciding to walk off his doubts and confusion. He’d find Claire and they’d do the picnic thing. If she really wanted to talk then he’d find a way to tell her what she wanted to hear. He could keep it together. He could be the man she needed him to be.
His mind now calm and resolved, Sylar smiled lightly to himself then glanced across the street. Through the plate glass window of the small bistro he caught sight of a head of curly black hair.
“Mohinder,” he growled.
-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-
Mohinder walked back to the motel slowly. He would rather be anywhere than back in that room. It was a nice enough day if a little chill. He could find a park bench and eat his lunch there. He sighed, no, Bennet wouldn’t like that. The company man wanted them to stay out of sight. They were dodging not only their quarry but the team Angela had sent to keep an eye on the couple.
Bennet had gone to check on the possible “special” and see what intel he would find on him. Then he was going to check in on Claire and make sure she was ok. Of course she wasn’t ok. She was married to a murdering monster, Mohinder thought. That was about as far from ok as one could get.
About ten minutes later Mohinder found himself, key in hand, outside his motel room. He felt a sudden chill against his skin. *They're out there Mohinder, and we’ll find them. We’ll find them all.* He trembled slightly. He had no doubt that if he hadn’t run across the article on Zane Taylor’s murder that Sylar would have done just that. How many more would have died? How many more would be on his conscience?
Mohinder shut the door behind him and found himself thrown forward into the wall. His face smashed into plaster splitting his lip.
“Well, who do we have here?” A low, raspy voice inquired.
The geneticist’s heart caught in his throat.
“Hello Mohinder, it’s been a long time.”
Sylar pressed in close to the pinned man. His breath ghosted along the man’s neck. He inhaled deeply. “Mmm, you still smell like spice.”
Mohinder closed his eyes. He couldn’t stop the fear that crawled along his skin making him shiver.
“Aw, you're trembling for me, that’s so sweet,” Sylar rasped. “I remember us being in this position before. Only I wasn’t pinning you with telekinesis.”
Mohinder found his voice, “Just do whatever it is you're going to do and get it over with.”
“Do? Why Mohinder, I'm a married man now. There won't be any *doing*... at least not with you.”
“I hate you so much,” hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
Sylar pressed in tight. Mohinder could feel his chest muscles against his back. His skin was like fire. He felt the air around them compress until it was hard for him to breathe. He was starting to panic when Sylar stepped away.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t hurt you. I don’t need to... do I.”
Mohinder drew in a ragged gasp of air.
“I'm thinking that it’s not a coincidence that you happen to be in the same Podunk little Vermont town am I, right? No, I'm guessing you're here with something specific in mind.” Sylar braced himself against the wall with one arm. “And since I think it unlikely that you would come after me all on your own then I have to assume you have cohorts.”
Sylar breathed into his ear, “Should I guess?” He changed sides, whispering into the other ear, “I'm going out on a limb here and saying you're here with my father-in-law, am I right?”
“Like I said, whatever you're going to do just get it over with.”
Sylar chuckled, “You always did have more heart than brains, which is saying a lot because you're a smart guy. And because you're a smart guy I’m going to give you a chance to make it right. Go back to New York, leave Claire and me alone.”
The pressure around him relaxed and Mohinder turned to face his tormentor. “I like you, I really do, but you know I will do what I have to do to protect what’s mine. This is the only warning you’ll get. Stay away from me. Better yet, stay away from Noah Bennet. He’ll just get you killed.”
Mohinder swallowed the lump in his throat. “That refrain is getting a bit old don’t you think? You’re either trying to kill me or you want my help. You need to make up your mind.”
Sylar cocked his head, “I'm just giving you some sound advice.” The killer took a step back and gave Mohinder an appraising look.
Mohinder scoffed openly, “I know how concerned you are for my welfare.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your welfare but I do care about Claire. Threatening my relationship will put you on my shit list real quick.”
“So I'm supposed to believe you have Claire’s welfare in mind or just your own?”
“I don’t care what you believe. Back off now... while you still can.”
“What are you worried about, Sylar? If you're not doing anything wrong then there’s no reason for you to worry about Bennet or me. Is there?”
Mohinder felt a sudden pressure on his throat. He felt himself being hoisted upwards along the wall. He was already on tiptoes as his vision blackened around the edges. “What are… you hiding..,” Mohinder choked out, “That has you so worried?”
Sylar smiled unpleasantly, “Do I look worried?” Suddenly the force of telekinesis was gone and Mohinder slid to the floor in a heap. “Look, man to man, I figure I owe you that much.” Sylar took a couple of steps back and raised his hands slightly, “I’m really trying to be a good person for Claire. Trying to be the kind of husband she deserves but I don’t respond well to pressure. Just leave us alone. I can do this... if everyone will just leave us be. Isn’t that what everyone wants... to stop the killings?”
Mohinder looked at him incredulously, “You really are that out of touch with reality aren’t you?”
Sylar's expression darkened dangerously, “Not the way to get on my good side.”
“You don’t have a good side. You're psychotic! You think that you can just walk away from your past? You think people will just forgive and forget because you decide not to kill anymore? There are consequences. You made your choice and you will have to live with it for the rest of your days. Count on it!”
“Well, this is going nowhere,” Sylar offered with a small sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t try.” Sylar turned to leave. “Oh by the way,” he turned back, “Tell Bennet the honeymoon has been really special so far.” Sylar smiled. “Claire has become some kinda woman, she knows what she likes... she knows what I like too.”
Sylar winked as he closed the door.