Fic: Primatech 815 - Ch. 5
Title: Primatech 815
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes (Crossover with Lost)
Characters: Ando, Bennet, Claire, Claude, Hiro, Isaac, Peter, Matt, Micah, Mohinder, Niki, Simone, Sylar (more to come)
Rating: R
Summary: A plane crash unites a group of strangers.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Lost.
Warnings: AU, Violence, Action/Adventure, Drug use, Het, Slash, Crossover/Fusion
Chapter 1| Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Peter bit down on his lower lip as he studied Audrey's injury. He wasn't a surgical nurse and he hadn't really even been in the medical field for very long, so he wasn't exactly confident in his handy work. The stitching looked fine to his eye, but he had a feeling that a real doctor wouldn't be ready to hand out their approval. Worse yet, Audrey's body wasn't responding to the antibiotics that he and Simone had given her. The drugs were weak to say the least, they had been prescribed for ear aches and foot fungus after all, and if he couldn't find anything stronger, the marshal was going to have to suffer through a long and painful death.
"Don't... don't trust him," she rasped urgently. A part of him wanted to think that it was merely the pain making her delusional or, better yet, that the man she was talking about, this "Sylar", had died in the crash. "No matter... no matter what he says... no matter h-how he makes you feel..."
"I don't know anyone named Sylar," he assured her as he tenderly poked and prodded her injury. "He could have died in the crash."
"Suresh," she wheezed, causing Peter's hands to still. "Is... is Suresh alive?"
Peter's heart was practically hammering in his chest as he listened to the blond woman moan and wheeze pathetically. "Y-yeah," he told her. "Suresh is alive."
"L-look out for him," she whispered. "Look out... for Suresh."
The nurse listened carefully, hoping that the woman would say more, but he was left with silence as the marshal slipped back into unconsciousness. His mind was whirling with this new information. Suresh. Audrey had warned him about Suresh. Mohinder was the prisoner and now he was alone in the jungle with Claire.
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Night began to fall all too quickly for the signal party as they headed back towards the beach. After much debate amongst them, the quartet had decided it would be best to make camp for the night. Isaac and Claire had gathered firewood while Mohinder had continued to study the now drained transceiver. Sylar couldn't help, but watch the other man's disheartened expression carefully, even as he helped build a fire with the others.
He knew what the Indian man was thinking just by looking at him. He knew that he was placing all the blame on himself. He knew that Mohinder was probably berating himself for getting their hopes up, for bringing a school girl into the jungle, for endangering everyone's lives by protecting a wanted criminal. He knew all this because that was just the kind of person Mohinder was. Mohinder was the type to put the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, the type to place all blame, whether it was justified or not, on himself, and the type to kill himself trying to set things right.
"What are we supposed to tell them?" Claire muttered as she gazed into the fire. Sylar frowned as he looked over the blond teenager. He long blond hair was framing her round, pouting face as she sat hugging her knees to her chest. In the glow of the firelight she looked so young and tragic. The very definition of a victim.
"About what?" Isaac blurted out thoughtlessly. "The polar bear in the jungle? The crazy Spanish lady saying 'they're dead, they're dead'? Or the fact that the transceiver is now broken again?"
"Isaac," Mohinder chided gently even as he held the radio limply in his hands.
"They have a right to know," Claire argued. "They have a right to know about all of that."
"You may be right," Mohinder agreed wearily, "but the fact of the matter is, if we tell the others about the Spanish transmission, then we'll be taking away any hope that they have for rescue. Hope is a terrible thing to lose, especially in a situation like this."
"So we lie?" Sylar asked quietly. He was surprised that Mohinder had been the one to come up with this plan. He hadn't thought that the genetics professor would be willing to manipulate people's feelings, even if it were for the "greater good." Especially not after what had happened the last time he'd pulled such a stunt.
"Yes," he sighed reluctantly. "We lie. I... I can still try to work on... something, but it will take time."
"Well," Claire shrugged, hugging her legs tighter to herself, "that's one thing we’ve got plenty of."
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Mohinder moaned sleepily as he turned over in his bed, tangling himself further in his warm sheets. He had been having such a pleasant dream, one that he was more than a bit upset to have come to an abrupt end considering that this was the first time he had actually been able to get to bed at a decent hour in over a month. Yet the cell phone vibrating and chiming loudly on his bed side table simply would not be ignored.
With a reluctant groan, he reached out his arm and used his sense of touch alone to guide his hand to the small device. A massive yawn tumbled out of his mouth as he placed the phone against his ear. If he had been more awake, he would have apologized at the rudeness of the gesture, but he was far too tired to be polite.
"Hello?" he yawned, his voice thick with sleep.
"Mohinder."
The gruff voice on the other end of the line was unmistakable, and within seconds, Mohinder found himself wide away and sitting erect in his bed. "Sylar?"
"Tell them to stop following me."
The Indian man's heart was practically slamming against his ribcage as he listened to Sylar's flat tone speak to him from the other end of the line. His eyes suddenly flashed over to his alarm clock and saw that it was only 4:15 in the morning. He couldn't understand why Sylar was calling him, especially at such a late hour.
"W-what are you talking about?"
"Tell them to stop hunting me," he stressed, his words cutting into Mohinder like a knife to his throat. "I'm done Mohinder. Tell them I'm done."
His head was swimming as he tried his hardest to decode what it was Sylar was trying to tell him, but he kept coming up blank. "I don't understand. Tell who?"
"Just leave tell them to leave me alone. I'm finished."
Before Mohinder could ask him again what he had meant, the line went dead.
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"Hey... Peter right?"
The nurse craned his head up and was surprised to see Matt standing at the entrance to his tent. "Yeah," he answered, trying his best to offer the older man a friendly smile, but it was difficult to say the least. They had a criminal on the loose and the marshal who had been escorting him was taking a turn for the worse. Not to mention the obvious fact that they were all still stranded on a deserted island.
"Just thought you might want to know that the group that went into the jungle yesterday just came back."
He nodded as he got to his feet. Audrey was sleeping now, she would be okay without him for a little while.
"What did you say you do for a living, Matt?" he asked casually.
"I'm a cop," Matt told him as the two men made their way towards the beach. “Well, I was.”
Peter could already see Mohinder standing on top of what had once been the wing of the plane, surrounded by a large group of people. It looked like just about everyone had come to hear what the party had found.
"As many of you already know," the Indian man began, "four of us went into the jungle yesterday in an attempt to find a signal to send out a distress message. Unfortunately, we were unsuccessful. However, that does not mean we should give up. I can still try to boost the signal on the transceiver. I will just need everyone to gather cell phones, laptops, and any other electronic device they can find."
"Alright," Matt cut in suddenly, "we should organize everyone into groups."
"That's a good idea," Mohinder agreed. "From the looks of things, it may start to rain soon, so we should also assemble a team to gather fresh water. I'll lead the team searching for electronics, Matthew, would you like to lead the water team?"
Peter listened with mild interest as the two men began splitting up everyone into groups. He couldn't help but feel disappointed as he watched Mohinder taking charge and conversing with Matt. When they had meet, Peter had hoped that Mohinder could have been someone he could turn to, someone to help take some of the burden of the leadership role, but if Mohinder truly was a criminal, he'd have to make sure the man wouldn't be able to hurt anyone.
Yet there was something about the Indian man that made Peter doubt what he had heard. Mohinder seemed so kind and honest. He couldn't imagine the man hurting anyone.
His train of thought was suddenly cut off when he saw Claire approaching him. The blond girl flashed him a weak smile when she saw that she now had his attention. "Can I talk to you, Peter?"
"Of course."
He frowned when Claire started to walk away, motioning for him to follow. He did so and waited in silence for Claire to speak her mind. They were near the medical tent, far enough away that no one else on the beach would hear them, when the girl started to speak in a hushed voice.
"When we were out in the jungle," she began. "We picked up a signal. Some Spanish woman had recorded it about eight years ago, and it's been repeating on a loop ever since. In the message... she kept saying 'they're dead.' We decided not to tell anyone... we didn't want anyone to panic, but I wanted to tell you."
He nodded thoughtfully as he listened to Claire's words. He knew he should have been frightened, but for some reason, he wasn't. Somehow, an eight year old unanswered rescue call wasn't quite as troubling as a criminal living among them or a dying woman in his tent.
"Anything else you need to tell me?" he asked, hoping that nothing else had occurred during the trek.
Claire fell silent as her eyes wandered over to the medical tent. "How is she?"
"Not good," Peter sighed. "Her body isn't responding to the antibiotics I gave her. I'll need to find something stronger, but Simone and I already looked through all of the luggage on the beach."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I'll look in the fuselage," he told her. "Everyone's afraid to go in there, so hopefully I'll find something useful."
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"Give me your hands."
Sylar frowned as he gazed up at Mohinder, shielding his eyes from the bright sun. The Indian man was currently glaring at him as he held clean white bandages in one hand and a small bottle in the other. "Aren't you supposed to be gathering supplies?" Sylar asked as Mohinder sat down across from him.
"Aren't you supposed to be keeping a low profile?" the genetic professor snapped as he reach over and grasped Sylar's right arm. "You're putting us both in danger. I need these people to trust me if we're ever going to get rescued. If you keep up your reckless behavior, they'll find out about us."
The fugitive flinched as Mohinder began pouring the burning liquid onto his tender skin. "Not that I care about getting rescued," he hissed. "We get off of this island, I go to jail. Where's my motivation?"
"Don't tell me you actually want to stay here?" Mohinder scoffed, wrapping the gauze roughly around Sylar's wrist. "Although I must admit, it's a fitting environment for you. I'm sure you and the creature in the jungle will get along quite well."
"So that's how you see this place, Mohinder?" Sylar smirked as the Indian man grabbed his other wrist and gave it the same harsh treatment. "A death trap?"
"Well, how do you see it?"
Sylar smiled as he raised his free hand to Mohinder's face, cupping the man's cheek in his palm and forcing the professor to look him in the eye. He felt Mohinder stiffen, his dark brown fingers lingering over the unsoiled, white bandages. A perfect contrast. "A fresh start," he told him slowly. "We're free here, Mohinder. We can do anything, be anything in this place. On this island, I don't have to be Gabriel Gray or Sylar. I can be someone else all together. Someone better."
"That's a frightening thought," Mohinder joked, but Sylar could hear the tentative fear in his voice.
"You're free too, Mohinder," he assured. "You don't have to pretend to be someone else anymore."
The Indian man's brown eyes narrowed as he studied Sylar's face suspiciously, trying to wrap his mind around what the criminal was getting at. "What are you talking about?"
"I watched you repair the transceiver," he explained. "You were so happy, so content. I could tell that working with tools and wires was more fulfilling for you than handling needles and looking through microscopes. You never wanted to be a geneticist, did you?"
Mohinder's confused expression quickly turned into one of cold hate as he swiftly lifted himself off of the sand. "You don't know anything about me," he spat as he stormed off towards the fuselage.
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Mohinder shifted uneasily under Audrey Hanson's intense stare. The blond woman must have been a good foot shorter than him and at least a hundred pounds lighter, but there was just something about the U.S. Marshal that he found quite intimidating even after all these years of them working together to catch Sylar. Although, it couldn't really be helped. She was a marshal trained to hunt down and capture wanted criminals, while he was just a college professor who was unfortunate enough to be caught up in this horrific situation.
"So you're telling me that Sylar called you up in the middle of the night just to tell you, to tell me to stop looking for him?" she asked skeptically.
He couldn't really blame her for not believing him. If he hadn't been the one to receive the phone call, Mohinder himself would have called the whole situation insane. Yet he knew it was true. His cell phone clearly showed that he had not only received a phone call at approximately 4:15 am, but also that he had in fact answered and spoke with the caller for less than a minute. Yet there was no name, no phone number, nothing real to identify just who had contacted him.
"I know how it seems," he admitted wearily, "but it happened!"
"Why wouldn't he just call me?" Hanson asked, folding her arms over her chest.
"I don't know," he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes impatiently. "I've never known why he insists on contacting me, but it is quite clear he knows we're working together."
Hanson frowned thoughtfully, processing his words. She had been chasing Sylar longer than the two of them had known each other, before he had ever crossed paths with the man, and Mohinder knew how much catching him meant to Hanson. It was more than just mere bragging rights, it was a chance to prove her worth, to finally justify her career, and it was because of that intense drive that Mohinder thought the woman was a perfect match for Sylar. They were both blinded by their ambitions, pursing perfection at all cost and not caring what they lost along the way. If anyone could bring him down, it was Audrey Hanson.
"We got an anonymous tip this morning that Sylar's down under," she told him casually.
"He's in Australia?" Mohinder blurted out.
"That's right. And I think the timing of this tip and your phone call is just too coincidental."
Mohinder frowned, studying the woman's face carefully. "What are you saying? You think it's a trap?"
Hanson smiled coldly at him and Mohinder felt himself shift once more at her expression. He knew that smile. It always meant trouble. Another plot to catch Sylar that would end badly for everyone. "I think he wants us to catch him," she smirked. "And I think we're going to play along and lure him in with some bait of our own."
"And by bait, of course. you mean me?"
The geneticist watched as Marshal Hanson's smile suddenly turned sweet and he knew right away that this plan was going to get him killed.
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Peter grimaced as he was abruptly hit by the powerful stench that filled the fuselage. The bodies in there were beginning to rot and the fact that they were sitting out in the hot sun, wrapped up in a giant piece of metal only helped to quicken the process. The young man gagged as he pulled out the small flashlight he'd found in someone's luggage and climbed inside. As a nurse he was probably better prepared to deal with such gruesome sights than any of the other survivors, but that didn't stop his stomach from churning in sympathy for all the people who hadn't been as fortunate as them.
He pushed those feelings aside as he climbed into the midsection of the plane. It was a bad idea to dwell on those thoughts right now. He had more important things to think about, like collecting medicine that he could use to save Audrey. The man shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the backpack that Claire had given to him as he began to look through whatever baggage he could find.
After several minutes of searching through suitcases and pushing aside corpses, Peter was starting to think that things were looking hopeless. He hadn't found anything that looked nearly strong enough to help Audrey fight off the infection spreading through her body or even ease the pain of the process. The most he was able to get his hands on were a few aspirins and a package of birth control pills.
Peter bit his lip as guilt began to fill up inside of him. Her death wouldn't be easy. She wouldn't go right away. It would take anywhere from two to four days for it to happen, and even then it would be painful.
He frowned, checking over the supplies in one more bag. He was just about to move on to another when the sound of something rustling in the distance immediately caught his attention. Peter stiffened as he glanced around him. The sun's light was barely able to illuminate the middle section of the plane, but he could just barely see a shadowy figure off in the distance. The young nurse held his breath as got up and slowly crept over to the form that looked as if it were crouched over something. He was about to pull out his flashlight and illuminate the person, when the stranger suddenly turned and jumped at him, shouting wildly.
Peter yelped as he scrambled backwards, crashing into a row of seats before falling flat on his back. His heart was all but slamming against his ribs as he heard a man's laughter come from above him.
"Sorry mate!" the man chuckled as he walked towards him. "Couldn't resist."
The nurse frowned as he propped himself up on one elbow, grabbing his flashlight so that he could shine it on the stranger's face. The man was tall, six feet at least, with unkempt dirty blond hair and a scruffy beard. The nurse could already tell by his accent that he was most likely British. Peter had seen him before on the beach, but the two had never actually met. He was starting to realize why.
"Very funny," Peter mumbled as he tried to lift himself back up. "What are you doing in here?"
"Same as you," he shrugged, walking past the young man without even glancing down at him. "Hunting for goods."
Peter glared up at the man as he finally managed to get himself back on his own two feet. The stranger's cold attitude towards the deceased was repulsive to say the least and Peter couldn't help but wonder what kind of person could be so unfeeling. "That's disgusting."
"Is it?" he asked, boredom clear in his voice as he bent down to look through another suitcase. "Or am I just adapting to my environment?" The man suddenly paused as if something had just occurred to him. He turned and looked at the younger man carefully. "You're the doctor, aren't you?"
"Nurse," he corrected tightly.
The British man laughed mockingly at him, causing Peter's glare to deepen. "Nurse?" he repeated. "That's cute. So tell me, Poodle, what've you got in the bag?"
"Medicine."
"For the sick woman, yeah? You don't know when to quit, do you?"
"I don't quit," he grumbled, lifting his bag onto his back as he started to leave the cabin. "And my name's Peter."
"Well, Pete, I hate to say it, but you're only making things worse for that poor woman by dragging this out. No one's coming, and you can't save her."
Peter frowned as he turned around as best as he could in the cramped space. "So what am I supposed to do?" he snapped. "Just let her die?"
The taller man frowned, not liking the tone Peter was taking, but the young nurse couldn't really find it in himself to care. If Audrey died here, it would be on his hands. He needed to fix her, he had to. She deserved to live long enough to be rescued.
"I'm saying you should put her out of her misery," the man told him. "It's the right thing to do." His tone was flat, all hints of humor gone, and somehow that made Peter even angrier. The last thing he wanted was to be lectured about right and wrong from a man who stole from the dead.
"I am not a murderer," he seethed, as he stormed out of the fuselage.
Next Chapter
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes (Crossover with Lost)
Characters: Ando, Bennet, Claire, Claude, Hiro, Isaac, Peter, Matt, Micah, Mohinder, Niki, Simone, Sylar (more to come)
Rating: R
Summary: A plane crash unites a group of strangers.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Lost.
Warnings: AU, Violence, Action/Adventure, Drug use, Het, Slash, Crossover/Fusion
Chapter 1| Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Peter bit down on his lower lip as he studied Audrey's injury. He wasn't a surgical nurse and he hadn't really even been in the medical field for very long, so he wasn't exactly confident in his handy work. The stitching looked fine to his eye, but he had a feeling that a real doctor wouldn't be ready to hand out their approval. Worse yet, Audrey's body wasn't responding to the antibiotics that he and Simone had given her. The drugs were weak to say the least, they had been prescribed for ear aches and foot fungus after all, and if he couldn't find anything stronger, the marshal was going to have to suffer through a long and painful death.
"Don't... don't trust him," she rasped urgently. A part of him wanted to think that it was merely the pain making her delusional or, better yet, that the man she was talking about, this "Sylar", had died in the crash. "No matter... no matter what he says... no matter h-how he makes you feel..."
"I don't know anyone named Sylar," he assured her as he tenderly poked and prodded her injury. "He could have died in the crash."
"Suresh," she wheezed, causing Peter's hands to still. "Is... is Suresh alive?"
Peter's heart was practically hammering in his chest as he listened to the blond woman moan and wheeze pathetically. "Y-yeah," he told her. "Suresh is alive."
"L-look out for him," she whispered. "Look out... for Suresh."
The nurse listened carefully, hoping that the woman would say more, but he was left with silence as the marshal slipped back into unconsciousness. His mind was whirling with this new information. Suresh. Audrey had warned him about Suresh. Mohinder was the prisoner and now he was alone in the jungle with Claire.
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Night began to fall all too quickly for the signal party as they headed back towards the beach. After much debate amongst them, the quartet had decided it would be best to make camp for the night. Isaac and Claire had gathered firewood while Mohinder had continued to study the now drained transceiver. Sylar couldn't help, but watch the other man's disheartened expression carefully, even as he helped build a fire with the others.
He knew what the Indian man was thinking just by looking at him. He knew that he was placing all the blame on himself. He knew that Mohinder was probably berating himself for getting their hopes up, for bringing a school girl into the jungle, for endangering everyone's lives by protecting a wanted criminal. He knew all this because that was just the kind of person Mohinder was. Mohinder was the type to put the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, the type to place all blame, whether it was justified or not, on himself, and the type to kill himself trying to set things right.
"What are we supposed to tell them?" Claire muttered as she gazed into the fire. Sylar frowned as he looked over the blond teenager. He long blond hair was framing her round, pouting face as she sat hugging her knees to her chest. In the glow of the firelight she looked so young and tragic. The very definition of a victim.
"About what?" Isaac blurted out thoughtlessly. "The polar bear in the jungle? The crazy Spanish lady saying 'they're dead, they're dead'? Or the fact that the transceiver is now broken again?"
"Isaac," Mohinder chided gently even as he held the radio limply in his hands.
"They have a right to know," Claire argued. "They have a right to know about all of that."
"You may be right," Mohinder agreed wearily, "but the fact of the matter is, if we tell the others about the Spanish transmission, then we'll be taking away any hope that they have for rescue. Hope is a terrible thing to lose, especially in a situation like this."
"So we lie?" Sylar asked quietly. He was surprised that Mohinder had been the one to come up with this plan. He hadn't thought that the genetics professor would be willing to manipulate people's feelings, even if it were for the "greater good." Especially not after what had happened the last time he'd pulled such a stunt.
"Yes," he sighed reluctantly. "We lie. I... I can still try to work on... something, but it will take time."
"Well," Claire shrugged, hugging her legs tighter to herself, "that's one thing we’ve got plenty of."
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Mohinder moaned sleepily as he turned over in his bed, tangling himself further in his warm sheets. He had been having such a pleasant dream, one that he was more than a bit upset to have come to an abrupt end considering that this was the first time he had actually been able to get to bed at a decent hour in over a month. Yet the cell phone vibrating and chiming loudly on his bed side table simply would not be ignored.
With a reluctant groan, he reached out his arm and used his sense of touch alone to guide his hand to the small device. A massive yawn tumbled out of his mouth as he placed the phone against his ear. If he had been more awake, he would have apologized at the rudeness of the gesture, but he was far too tired to be polite.
"Hello?" he yawned, his voice thick with sleep.
"Mohinder."
The gruff voice on the other end of the line was unmistakable, and within seconds, Mohinder found himself wide away and sitting erect in his bed. "Sylar?"
"Tell them to stop following me."
The Indian man's heart was practically slamming against his ribcage as he listened to Sylar's flat tone speak to him from the other end of the line. His eyes suddenly flashed over to his alarm clock and saw that it was only 4:15 in the morning. He couldn't understand why Sylar was calling him, especially at such a late hour.
"W-what are you talking about?"
"Tell them to stop hunting me," he stressed, his words cutting into Mohinder like a knife to his throat. "I'm done Mohinder. Tell them I'm done."
His head was swimming as he tried his hardest to decode what it was Sylar was trying to tell him, but he kept coming up blank. "I don't understand. Tell who?"
"Just leave tell them to leave me alone. I'm finished."
Before Mohinder could ask him again what he had meant, the line went dead.
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"Hey... Peter right?"
The nurse craned his head up and was surprised to see Matt standing at the entrance to his tent. "Yeah," he answered, trying his best to offer the older man a friendly smile, but it was difficult to say the least. They had a criminal on the loose and the marshal who had been escorting him was taking a turn for the worse. Not to mention the obvious fact that they were all still stranded on a deserted island.
"Just thought you might want to know that the group that went into the jungle yesterday just came back."
He nodded as he got to his feet. Audrey was sleeping now, she would be okay without him for a little while.
"What did you say you do for a living, Matt?" he asked casually.
"I'm a cop," Matt told him as the two men made their way towards the beach. “Well, I was.”
Peter could already see Mohinder standing on top of what had once been the wing of the plane, surrounded by a large group of people. It looked like just about everyone had come to hear what the party had found.
"As many of you already know," the Indian man began, "four of us went into the jungle yesterday in an attempt to find a signal to send out a distress message. Unfortunately, we were unsuccessful. However, that does not mean we should give up. I can still try to boost the signal on the transceiver. I will just need everyone to gather cell phones, laptops, and any other electronic device they can find."
"Alright," Matt cut in suddenly, "we should organize everyone into groups."
"That's a good idea," Mohinder agreed. "From the looks of things, it may start to rain soon, so we should also assemble a team to gather fresh water. I'll lead the team searching for electronics, Matthew, would you like to lead the water team?"
Peter listened with mild interest as the two men began splitting up everyone into groups. He couldn't help but feel disappointed as he watched Mohinder taking charge and conversing with Matt. When they had meet, Peter had hoped that Mohinder could have been someone he could turn to, someone to help take some of the burden of the leadership role, but if Mohinder truly was a criminal, he'd have to make sure the man wouldn't be able to hurt anyone.
Yet there was something about the Indian man that made Peter doubt what he had heard. Mohinder seemed so kind and honest. He couldn't imagine the man hurting anyone.
His train of thought was suddenly cut off when he saw Claire approaching him. The blond girl flashed him a weak smile when she saw that she now had his attention. "Can I talk to you, Peter?"
"Of course."
He frowned when Claire started to walk away, motioning for him to follow. He did so and waited in silence for Claire to speak her mind. They were near the medical tent, far enough away that no one else on the beach would hear them, when the girl started to speak in a hushed voice.
"When we were out in the jungle," she began. "We picked up a signal. Some Spanish woman had recorded it about eight years ago, and it's been repeating on a loop ever since. In the message... she kept saying 'they're dead.' We decided not to tell anyone... we didn't want anyone to panic, but I wanted to tell you."
He nodded thoughtfully as he listened to Claire's words. He knew he should have been frightened, but for some reason, he wasn't. Somehow, an eight year old unanswered rescue call wasn't quite as troubling as a criminal living among them or a dying woman in his tent.
"Anything else you need to tell me?" he asked, hoping that nothing else had occurred during the trek.
Claire fell silent as her eyes wandered over to the medical tent. "How is she?"
"Not good," Peter sighed. "Her body isn't responding to the antibiotics I gave her. I'll need to find something stronger, but Simone and I already looked through all of the luggage on the beach."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I'll look in the fuselage," he told her. "Everyone's afraid to go in there, so hopefully I'll find something useful."
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"Give me your hands."
Sylar frowned as he gazed up at Mohinder, shielding his eyes from the bright sun. The Indian man was currently glaring at him as he held clean white bandages in one hand and a small bottle in the other. "Aren't you supposed to be gathering supplies?" Sylar asked as Mohinder sat down across from him.
"Aren't you supposed to be keeping a low profile?" the genetic professor snapped as he reach over and grasped Sylar's right arm. "You're putting us both in danger. I need these people to trust me if we're ever going to get rescued. If you keep up your reckless behavior, they'll find out about us."
The fugitive flinched as Mohinder began pouring the burning liquid onto his tender skin. "Not that I care about getting rescued," he hissed. "We get off of this island, I go to jail. Where's my motivation?"
"Don't tell me you actually want to stay here?" Mohinder scoffed, wrapping the gauze roughly around Sylar's wrist. "Although I must admit, it's a fitting environment for you. I'm sure you and the creature in the jungle will get along quite well."
"So that's how you see this place, Mohinder?" Sylar smirked as the Indian man grabbed his other wrist and gave it the same harsh treatment. "A death trap?"
"Well, how do you see it?"
Sylar smiled as he raised his free hand to Mohinder's face, cupping the man's cheek in his palm and forcing the professor to look him in the eye. He felt Mohinder stiffen, his dark brown fingers lingering over the unsoiled, white bandages. A perfect contrast. "A fresh start," he told him slowly. "We're free here, Mohinder. We can do anything, be anything in this place. On this island, I don't have to be Gabriel Gray or Sylar. I can be someone else all together. Someone better."
"That's a frightening thought," Mohinder joked, but Sylar could hear the tentative fear in his voice.
"You're free too, Mohinder," he assured. "You don't have to pretend to be someone else anymore."
The Indian man's brown eyes narrowed as he studied Sylar's face suspiciously, trying to wrap his mind around what the criminal was getting at. "What are you talking about?"
"I watched you repair the transceiver," he explained. "You were so happy, so content. I could tell that working with tools and wires was more fulfilling for you than handling needles and looking through microscopes. You never wanted to be a geneticist, did you?"
Mohinder's confused expression quickly turned into one of cold hate as he swiftly lifted himself off of the sand. "You don't know anything about me," he spat as he stormed off towards the fuselage.
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Mohinder shifted uneasily under Audrey Hanson's intense stare. The blond woman must have been a good foot shorter than him and at least a hundred pounds lighter, but there was just something about the U.S. Marshal that he found quite intimidating even after all these years of them working together to catch Sylar. Although, it couldn't really be helped. She was a marshal trained to hunt down and capture wanted criminals, while he was just a college professor who was unfortunate enough to be caught up in this horrific situation.
"So you're telling me that Sylar called you up in the middle of the night just to tell you, to tell me to stop looking for him?" she asked skeptically.
He couldn't really blame her for not believing him. If he hadn't been the one to receive the phone call, Mohinder himself would have called the whole situation insane. Yet he knew it was true. His cell phone clearly showed that he had not only received a phone call at approximately 4:15 am, but also that he had in fact answered and spoke with the caller for less than a minute. Yet there was no name, no phone number, nothing real to identify just who had contacted him.
"I know how it seems," he admitted wearily, "but it happened!"
"Why wouldn't he just call me?" Hanson asked, folding her arms over her chest.
"I don't know," he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes impatiently. "I've never known why he insists on contacting me, but it is quite clear he knows we're working together."
Hanson frowned thoughtfully, processing his words. She had been chasing Sylar longer than the two of them had known each other, before he had ever crossed paths with the man, and Mohinder knew how much catching him meant to Hanson. It was more than just mere bragging rights, it was a chance to prove her worth, to finally justify her career, and it was because of that intense drive that Mohinder thought the woman was a perfect match for Sylar. They were both blinded by their ambitions, pursing perfection at all cost and not caring what they lost along the way. If anyone could bring him down, it was Audrey Hanson.
"We got an anonymous tip this morning that Sylar's down under," she told him casually.
"He's in Australia?" Mohinder blurted out.
"That's right. And I think the timing of this tip and your phone call is just too coincidental."
Mohinder frowned, studying the woman's face carefully. "What are you saying? You think it's a trap?"
Hanson smiled coldly at him and Mohinder felt himself shift once more at her expression. He knew that smile. It always meant trouble. Another plot to catch Sylar that would end badly for everyone. "I think he wants us to catch him," she smirked. "And I think we're going to play along and lure him in with some bait of our own."
"And by bait, of course. you mean me?"
The geneticist watched as Marshal Hanson's smile suddenly turned sweet and he knew right away that this plan was going to get him killed.
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Peter grimaced as he was abruptly hit by the powerful stench that filled the fuselage. The bodies in there were beginning to rot and the fact that they were sitting out in the hot sun, wrapped up in a giant piece of metal only helped to quicken the process. The young man gagged as he pulled out the small flashlight he'd found in someone's luggage and climbed inside. As a nurse he was probably better prepared to deal with such gruesome sights than any of the other survivors, but that didn't stop his stomach from churning in sympathy for all the people who hadn't been as fortunate as them.
He pushed those feelings aside as he climbed into the midsection of the plane. It was a bad idea to dwell on those thoughts right now. He had more important things to think about, like collecting medicine that he could use to save Audrey. The man shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the backpack that Claire had given to him as he began to look through whatever baggage he could find.
After several minutes of searching through suitcases and pushing aside corpses, Peter was starting to think that things were looking hopeless. He hadn't found anything that looked nearly strong enough to help Audrey fight off the infection spreading through her body or even ease the pain of the process. The most he was able to get his hands on were a few aspirins and a package of birth control pills.
Peter bit his lip as guilt began to fill up inside of him. Her death wouldn't be easy. She wouldn't go right away. It would take anywhere from two to four days for it to happen, and even then it would be painful.
He frowned, checking over the supplies in one more bag. He was just about to move on to another when the sound of something rustling in the distance immediately caught his attention. Peter stiffened as he glanced around him. The sun's light was barely able to illuminate the middle section of the plane, but he could just barely see a shadowy figure off in the distance. The young nurse held his breath as got up and slowly crept over to the form that looked as if it were crouched over something. He was about to pull out his flashlight and illuminate the person, when the stranger suddenly turned and jumped at him, shouting wildly.
Peter yelped as he scrambled backwards, crashing into a row of seats before falling flat on his back. His heart was all but slamming against his ribs as he heard a man's laughter come from above him.
"Sorry mate!" the man chuckled as he walked towards him. "Couldn't resist."
The nurse frowned as he propped himself up on one elbow, grabbing his flashlight so that he could shine it on the stranger's face. The man was tall, six feet at least, with unkempt dirty blond hair and a scruffy beard. The nurse could already tell by his accent that he was most likely British. Peter had seen him before on the beach, but the two had never actually met. He was starting to realize why.
"Very funny," Peter mumbled as he tried to lift himself back up. "What are you doing in here?"
"Same as you," he shrugged, walking past the young man without even glancing down at him. "Hunting for goods."
Peter glared up at the man as he finally managed to get himself back on his own two feet. The stranger's cold attitude towards the deceased was repulsive to say the least and Peter couldn't help but wonder what kind of person could be so unfeeling. "That's disgusting."
"Is it?" he asked, boredom clear in his voice as he bent down to look through another suitcase. "Or am I just adapting to my environment?" The man suddenly paused as if something had just occurred to him. He turned and looked at the younger man carefully. "You're the doctor, aren't you?"
"Nurse," he corrected tightly.
The British man laughed mockingly at him, causing Peter's glare to deepen. "Nurse?" he repeated. "That's cute. So tell me, Poodle, what've you got in the bag?"
"Medicine."
"For the sick woman, yeah? You don't know when to quit, do you?"
"I don't quit," he grumbled, lifting his bag onto his back as he started to leave the cabin. "And my name's Peter."
"Well, Pete, I hate to say it, but you're only making things worse for that poor woman by dragging this out. No one's coming, and you can't save her."
Peter frowned as he turned around as best as he could in the cramped space. "So what am I supposed to do?" he snapped. "Just let her die?"
The taller man frowned, not liking the tone Peter was taking, but the young nurse couldn't really find it in himself to care. If Audrey died here, it would be on his hands. He needed to fix her, he had to. She deserved to live long enough to be rescued.
"I'm saying you should put her out of her misery," the man told him. "It's the right thing to do." His tone was flat, all hints of humor gone, and somehow that made Peter even angrier. The last thing he wanted was to be lectured about right and wrong from a man who stole from the dead.
"I am not a murderer," he seethed, as he stormed out of the fuselage.
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