"It would have been ages before we even swept Colorado, and why would we think to check something so out of the way?" Sylar shook his head, imagining how easy it would have been for them to miss the pair entirely, if Mohinder hadn't been so obvious in his search for Claire. Subtlety had never really been the flashy geneticist's strong point.
"Thank you, Gretchen. You've been enormously helpful," he did his best to give her a reassuring smile. "And don't let student services assign you a new roommate, yet. We'll have Claire back to her classes, soon. If you hear from her, or her family, don't say anything. Peter and I are more than capable of handling this, but only if Doctor Suresh doesn't keep running."
"So are we. Let us help," he released the pressure on Mohinder, gradually. Lifting his hand from the doctor's chest, he extended it forward, open, in an offer to help him up. He held his breath, though unconsciously, waiting to see if he'd be scorned or accepted.
Mohinder felt the pressure lift gradually and looked at Sylar's hand. Was he willing to take it, after everything? Was he no longer ashamed of his own cold skin and monstrously tight grip?
Mohinder rolled to the side and stood up on his own with grace he hadn't possessed years ago when their paths first crossed. He brushed dirty snow from his clothing, tending to his looks. Monster or not, he wanted to be presentable.
Mohinder also held himself with more confidence than Sylar likely remembered - shoulders back, spine straight. He had no reason to slump or cower.
Without a word he moved around them, brushing his fingers against Claire's arm in a silent apology for how things were going. He'd just wanted a quiet existence here, with her, left to his own thoughts on the cure. Of course Sylar would never allow it.
Peter glanced at his brother and then walked with Claire towards the cabin, remembering coming here as a kid. Good memories.
Sylar closed his empty fingers into a fist and pressed his mouth into a thin line for a moment before he swept to his own feet. Hot, boiling anger of the type he usually tried to repress around Peter came surging upward inside of him, that hated feeling of rejection making his ears burn again.
He stalked behind them, a cloud of dark feelings, keeping his eyes on Mohinder so that the doctor didn't make a second attempt to flee. Inside he was raging. Didn't the geneticist see what Sylar had done for him? How much he'd given up, thanks to the very existence of this damned disease?
Claire pressed close to Peter, shivering in the cold of the night and the heat of her half-uncle's glare. She still wasn't comfortable with that monster being part of the family. She knew he tried, and hard, but the fact that he was a cold blooded killer remained unchanged. He just had a good excuse for it now, but it still didn't make him right. "I missed you," she told Peter, quietly.
"Missed you too, Claire," he replied softly, looking down at her. Once they were inside he took her to the kitchen and had her sit on a stool. Peter retrieved paper towels and soaked them in luke-warm water, then began to clean the blood and dirt from her exposed skin; especially around her neck where she'd been fed on.
Mohinder headed upstairs to look at the window he'd broken, and to have a moment alone. He could feel Sylar's eyes on him but he tried to pretend like he didn't care as he studied the broken glass and then retrieved a flat panel of wood from the back of an armoir. It fit rather neatly inside the frame of the window and he could only feel a minor draft coming through the cracks, so that would have to do for now. The snow was beautiful but he hated the cold, lately.
"Thank you, Gretchen. You've been enormously helpful," he did his best to give her a reassuring smile. "And don't let student services assign you a new roommate, yet. We'll have Claire back to her classes, soon. If you hear from her, or her family, don't say anything. Peter and I are more than capable of handling this, but only if Doctor Suresh doesn't keep running."
Reply
Reply
Mohinder rolled to the side and stood up on his own with grace he hadn't possessed years ago when their paths first crossed. He brushed dirty snow from his clothing, tending to his looks. Monster or not, he wanted to be presentable.
Mohinder also held himself with more confidence than Sylar likely remembered - shoulders back, spine straight. He had no reason to slump or cower.
Without a word he moved around them, brushing his fingers against Claire's arm in a silent apology for how things were going. He'd just wanted a quiet existence here, with her, left to his own thoughts on the cure. Of course Sylar would never allow it.
Peter glanced at his brother and then walked with Claire towards the cabin, remembering coming here as a kid. Good memories.
Reply
He stalked behind them, a cloud of dark feelings, keeping his eyes on Mohinder so that the doctor didn't make a second attempt to flee. Inside he was raging. Didn't the geneticist see what Sylar had done for him? How much he'd given up, thanks to the very existence of this damned disease?
Claire pressed close to Peter, shivering in the cold of the night and the heat of her half-uncle's glare. She still wasn't comfortable with that monster being part of the family. She knew he tried, and hard, but the fact that he was a cold blooded killer remained unchanged. He just had a good excuse for it now, but it still didn't make him right. "I missed you," she told Peter, quietly.
Reply
Mohinder headed upstairs to look at the window he'd broken, and to have a moment alone. He could feel Sylar's eyes on him but he tried to pretend like he didn't care as he studied the broken glass and then retrieved a flat panel of wood from the back of an armoir. It fit rather neatly inside the frame of the window and he could only feel a minor draft coming through the cracks, so that would have to do for now. The snow was beautiful but he hated the cold, lately.
Reply
Leave a comment