(no subject)
Title: Define Dangerous
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4258
Chapter: 12/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11
Summary: While escaping the Company, Sylar meets up with someone from his past. Together, they must piece together some semblance of normality after years of captivity. Future AU.
By that night, they were in Manhattan, the one city in the world where all their issues seemed to converge. The past and present met in this place, lifelines overlapping in a grand pattern that Sylar could understand only with his advanced abilities. Why were they chosen for this path? Why were the others brought here before, only for most of them to be cut down in the prime of their lives? They had experienced things there that no one should ever have to. Family members exploding, near fatal apocalypses, betrayals by those they trusted and so many deaths.
“Are you sure you don't want me to come along?” Claire asked as they walked through Kirby Plaza. She'd wanted to see what it looked like these days, what remained. The city was doing construction work here. Gates and barricades blocked them from getting that close to the place where Peter and Sylar once fought. “Maybe I can smooth things over with Mohinder. He certainly won't want to talk to you.”
“I can handle it, Claire.” Sylar was looking forward to seeing Mohinder again. Alone. They had so much to talk about but he reminded himself that their conversation would be kept strictly business. There was no time for vendettas tonight. “I'll be back at the hotel before you can even fall asleep. And we'll travel out to where ever the hell Peter is keeping himself these days and then--”
“Will you leave when it's all over?” Claire shivered against the cold weather, wrapping her arms around herself. She almost sounded hurt, though Sylar couldn't fathom why. He would have thought she'd be glad to get rid of him, especially once she was back with her family. “After we find Peter?”
“Do you want me to stay?” Silence fell between them. She was looking for a hero; he was only playing at being one. They both knew the score. After a moment, he spoke again of more pressing matters, “Go back to the hotel. Wait for me there.”
Claire nodded. Then she raised her eyebrows warningly, like he was child she was going to have to keep a close eye on. “Promise not to kill anyone?”
He frowned as the possible fun the night offered was cut in half. “I promise. Though there might be maiming involved..” When she crossed her arms and glared at him, Sylar threw his hands up in surrender. He had no power under the weight of those eyes. “Okay, okay.. no maiming either. God, you're such a killjoy.”
“Be careful, okay?” Claire quickly wrapped her arms around him and then scurried off, leaving him to wonder what that hug was all about and whether or not he was ready to give all this up. He watched as she crossed the street, already worrying about whether she would be okay alone tonight.
It wasn't safe here, not amongst the memories of the past and the dangers of the present. They were being followed, Sylar would have been a fool to believe the company would give up so easily. No, they were there, lurking in every city they stopped at just waiting for just the right moment to strike. He wouldn't be able to protect her forever and that pained him more than he could understand.
A long time ago, he had entertained the notion of being a hero of the people. Right here in this very city, this very plaza, back when Peter was about to explode and kill thousands of people. They were all there, watching as the younger boy went into a panic, his hands glowing with the powers he had empathically taken from Ted.
“Wait, no!” Sylar could see Peter in his mind now, his hands a fiery red and fear etched across his forehead. He screamed out to whoever or whatever could stop the power from building; it was uncontrollable, the explosion imminent. At that time, neither knew that Nathan would eventually come and save the world. They only knew that time was running out. “No!”
Sylar had laughed, getting to his feet, finding the whole thing amusing as hell. Yet, in that moment, he knew he had the power to stop Peter, to be the hero, to save the day. He only needed to kill him, slay the dragon and be the people's white knight. “Turns out you're the villain, Peter. I'm the hero.”
He didn't save anyone that day. Perhaps it was because he was too pissed off after Hiro stabbed him with a sword to think straight and staying alive long enough to take his next breath soon took top priority as blood drained from his open wound. Or maybe, the better answer was that he wouldn't have stopped anything from happening that day if he could have. Hell, he probably would have stopped Nathan from intervening as well.
Because he lied. He was the villain. Sylar knew it right down to his very soul, if he even had a soul anymore, after all he had done. So, why was he trying to be one now? Why was he afraid to fail this girl? Why was he bothering to attempt to get help from someone he knew would just as likely kill him as talk to him?
He exploded a ball of radiation outward from his hand, feeling the power that came from that release. At least he could access those part of himself again. His powers were certainly an asset he didn't want to be without when he went to talk to Mohinder.
It wouldn't be long before they faltered again though. He could feel the rise and fall of his abilities these days and was becoming accustomed to them failing when he most needed them to work. So why was he wasting time, helping this girl when he needed to do greater things with his powers before they failed completely and possibly forever?
Sylar thought of his mother and the small apartment she used to live in, the one in which he killed her. He never returned home after that day. Someone else was living there now probably, his old family and old life boxed up and carted away. He tried to play the hero that day too. It didn't turn out that well. She died in his arms, taking her last breath as she renounced her son.
He practically begged his mother to let him stay home that evening, to keep him there in Queens without sending him out into the world, searching for some kind of meaning in life that he would never find. He suggested a rest from that life, from being Sylar. He wanted to be himself again. “I'm tired of traveling. I think I might stay here.”
“In Queens? Why would you ever come back?” She wanted more for him, he wasn't special enough in her eyes. He couldn't exist forever as plain, old Gabriel. There was always something more around the corner, some dream of hers he need to fulfill. If only she had known the price it would cost to make those dreams come true.
“If I stayed, maybe I could stop. Maybe I wouldn't have to..” He had trailed off, his voice leaving him. She couldn't know the truth and he couldn't speak it. He couldn't stay there, even if she asked him to. Murder was already in his blood, he'd tasted it and knew how wonderful it made him feel. It was the only thing that made him feel much of anything these days.
Except that girl. Claire.
Something in him refused to let her down. So, whether he liked going back to the place where it all started or asking for help from the worthless son of a worthless man, he'd do what he needed to make it right and sacrifice what he must.
He raised another ball of energy in his hands, playing with it and watching it glow. The streets were crowded tonight but no one saw the man in the shadows illuminated by his own power. This city wasn't ready for him; it never would be. Hopefully, Mohinder would at least be hospitable once he arrived. Getting the child to cooperate might be a problem, considering he killed her parents once long ago. They could be manipulated, though, worked over until they did what he demanded.
His photographic memory recalled a Robert Frost poem, something he'd read years ago, as the wind whipped at his long, black coat. His voice slowly recalled the words, pausing over each one with depth and meaning as he left Kirby Plaza. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.”
Sylar would not rest until Claire was back with her family, as she belonged.
After a little digging, Sylar tracked Mohinder back to the small, crowded apartment in Brooklyn he now stood outside. Apartment 631. He knew the place all too well, after spending a few nights there pretending to be Zane. It was where Mohinder and him used to regroup before going out to search for more special people with abilities. Mohinder would research genetics and genomes long into the night, while Sylar slept and dreamt about each new ability he would absorb into his own body.
Then there were the nights spent staying up and talking to each other. He never let his mask drop. He was a pretty good actor, lying came naturally to him. So good in fact, that Mohinder didn't realized the person responsible for killing all those people and for killing his father was in his apartment, using his things and befriending him.
Mohinder was a decent actor himself. Sylar didn't know Mohinder figured out his real identity until he was drinking spiked Chai. After Sylar woke from the affects of the sleeping agent, their relationship only worsened. His ex-friend and betrayer had set about trying to torture him for the crime of killing his father. Somehow Sylar didn't think that was something they could brush aside so easily, even after all this time.
His hand hesitated before knocking, listening inside with his superhearing, waiting for some kind of sign that this was the right thing to do. He could hear an argument going on, between Mohinder and his adopted daughter.
“It's my body and I'll pierce whatever I feel like piercing,” the teenager screamed, stomping across the apartment floor. A door slammed, probably her bedroom. Lighter footsteps followed her and then stopped short. Sylar heard Mohinder sigh, muttering something in Indian to himself.
“Molly, come out here right now. We need to sit down and discuss this decision of yours.” Her father didn't seem to be getting anywhere, since the bedroom door remained shut. “Would you like me to get Matt on the telephone? I'll call him up right now and tell him what you did. I can promise you he won't be anymore happy about this situation than I am.”
Sylar smirked to himself, the argument amusing him to no end. The situation was about to get a heck of a lot worse. His hand tapped on the door, alerting the occupants to his arrival. When Mohinder was heard coming to answer the door, Sylar straightened up, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. He figured he would lead with his Gabriel-mask, all meek and seeking forgiveness. There would be time later to slip into something more violent if a new direction was needed after he talked to them.
The door opened and Mohinder could only stand there, taking in the sight of his old enemy with wide eyes that displayed their deep brown color. His chin dropped, gapping at the sight. “Sylar.” He hissed out his words with more vehemence than Sylar thought possible. “What are you doing here? I thought the company killed you years ago. By all accounts, they should have, at least.”
“Primatech couldn't keep me down for long. You know what they say, only the good die young.” Sylar was leaning slightly to the right, peering over Mohinder's shoulder at the closed bedroom door. The girl was in there, with the power that he needed to make things right. “I need to borrow the girl. She has something I need. It's for a friend of mine.”
The door slammed in his face. Mohinder obviously didn't want to listen to Sylar anymore. Sylar shrugged, at least he had made an attempt to play nice. From behind the door, Sylar heard him rushing to the phone and dialing the first of three numbers.
That did it. It was time to play hard ball.
Phasing through the door, he stepped into the apartment, tossing the phone across the room with a thought. It scattered into a multitude of broken pieces. “I thought we were friends, Mohinder. I came here for help and I get the door shut in my face. I don't like being turned away. You have what I need, the girl--”
“You'll get no help from me. You're a murder. You won't get another step near Molly.” As he spoke, Mohinder was slowly stepping towards his daughter's door, blocking the way into her room. Sylar could hear Molly behind the door, listening to their conversation.
“Do you remember the last time I was in this apartment?” Sylar stepped towards the kitchen, picking up a mug of what appeared to be coffee with his telekinesis. He spoke in a faraway voice, recalling times from long ago. “Do you ever think of that day? I told you something then, what was it? That I wasn't begging for my life. I was offering you yours.”
He flicked his finger and the mug dashed across the apartment. It would have hit Mohinder, if the man didn't duck. Coffee splattered across the wall, bursting from the broken mug as it slammed into the wall. Sylar cocked his head to the side, studying the pattern.
“I'm doing the same now. I won't beg. I never do. And unless you want Molly to end up an orphan yet again, you'll do what I ask of you. Now go get her.” He waited for his demands to be met, patiently and with deadly calm.
The bedroom door started moving, as a girl with red hair inched it open so she could see the scene play out. She'd heard it all and seemed to be coming out by herself. She was a good little girl, she would play along where Mohinder would not. At least one of them had brains enough not to deny him what he wanted.
Mohinder ran to the door, slamming it shut and locking his daughter in her room where she would be safe. He yelled through the door, worry seeping out of every syllable. “Molly! Stay in there, I can handle this man.” He turned back to Sylar, ready to sacrifice anything necessary in order to save his daughter. Though he should have been shaking in his shoes by now, he starred down his opponent with an immense fortitude of courage and experience. “I've dealt with him before.”
“And we all know how well that ended.” Sylar laughed. “You would have been killed if Peter hadn't showed up, your white knight coming to save your pathetic ass.” He grabbed Mohinder by the throat, pulling him up off the floor. The man choked against his hold, his two hands reaching out to grab Sylar's fingers trying desperately to pull them away. “This could have gone so better for you. I wasn't planning on getting violent, Claire seems to have a thing against using force for some reason.”
“Claire?” Mohinder squeezed out, through his tightened wind pipe.
“Yes, Claire!” Sylar threw him across the room, watching as he landed against a bookcase and then collapsed to the floor. “She's the reason I'm here, the reason I'm trying to do the right thing. We were in Primatech together. I rescued her.”
Mohinder held a hand to his head, picking himself up off the floor by using the bookshelf as leverage. He clung to one of the shelves as he regained his balance. He looked confused, but then he was always a bit too slow for his own good. “That can't be possible. The Bennets were killed by an armed robber in their home over two years ago. Claire's dead.”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Must I remind you that you thought that I was dead too. Have you never heard of the words 'cover up'? The company's been doing this for decades now, they've got kidnapping people down to a science by now. I need to find out where Peter's been keeping himself these days because I know he's still alive. He's the only family Claire has left.”
“You've escaped from the company and you want me to think you're going after an old enemy because of a girl?” Mohinder frowned, displaying complete disbelief. “And you want Molly to help you in going after him? Excuse me if I don't exactly jump at the chance to help you track him down.”
Sylar threw his hands up, shaking his head, “What is wrong with you? All I need to do is ask Molly to find one person, one stupid person and then I'll be out of your hair. You can go on playing house after I leave. That's all I'm asking for and you can't even give me that. You're pathetic.”
A slim, red-haired teenager emerged into the living room. Her eyebrow was newly pierced and she had a new attitude to go with it. This wasn't the little girl he'd tried to murder so many years ago, she was stronger now. He could see it in her eyes. “I'll help you, Sylar. But then you leave my family alone and never bother us again.”
“Molly! What are you doing? You can't trust him!” Mohinder seethed, coming to stand beside his daughter, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. She showed no signs of backing out of her offer though, bringing her atlas to the coffee table. She sat down on the couch and opened it in front of her.
Mohinder sat on the couch beside her, ready to strike out if Sylar so much as took a step towards them. Every fiber of his being was pulled taut, would up tightly on a hair trigger. He still wasn't convinced that this was the right thing to do. “I don't think this is a wise idea, Molly.”
Sylar stood in the living room, eager to watch her work. “Shut up, Mohinder.”
“Dad, he needs help. Haven't you always told me that heroes always help those in need?” Molly pleaded with her father, trying to make him see what she did. Then, starring up at the enemy, she said pointedly. “Besides, we do this for him and he might leave quietly.”
“She's right. It's the only way to get me out of here without killing anyone. And really, who needs that?” Sylar smiled devilishly. He was so close. If Mohinder only kept quiet a little longer and let his daughter get to work, Sylar could leave and get back to his journey. There wasn't anymore need for violence; he would be getting what he needed in a few short moments.
Molly opened the book, going into a semi-trance as she narrowed down her search to the right page. If only he could have stolen this power when he killed the rest of her family; it seemed so very useful. Her hands stopped on a map, roads and streets making a criss cross pattern below her fingers. She moved her finger north along an unfamiliar interstate. “Peter's in Maine. I see pine trees. Lots of them.”
Sylar grinned a wide smile. Peter was alive. He never thought he would be this happy to know that one of the Petrelli's were still breathing. But it offered the first piece of tangible proof yet for him and Claire. It also proved that he was correct, which was an added bonus. He rather liked being right.
“That's remarkable.” Mohinder seemed just as surprised to know that Peter was still alive. Apparently, the idea to back up all the cover stories he heard with his daughter's skills never occurred to him. “After what I heard--”
“Shh!” Sylar cut him off, gesturing with his hand for quiet. He turned his attention back to Molly, in wonder of her extraordinary skill and not wanting the process to be disrupted. “Let the girl work. Where in Maine is he, Molly?”
Her finger followed I-95 north and then made a left turn towards Route 202. “He's by a lake. He's in a cabin by the lake.” She stopped her finger, marking the right spot with her eyes still closed. When she opened them, Molly read the place name under her finger. “Sebago Lake, Maine. By the north side in a wooden cabin. Number 278 on Mondor Road. It's a nice place, from what I saw.”
“Oh, Molly, thank you!” Sylar could have kissed her, right then and there, but thought better of it when he saw the way Mohinder was eying him. If he made any sudden moves now, he was not going to be able to leave in such a happy mood. “If there's anything I can ever do for you--”
She shut the book abruptly and stood up with her hands on her hips. “You could start by not killing my parents, but oh, I guess it's a little too late for that.” Her attitude displayed all her hatred for him. This wound he caused in her would never heal. He could almost admire his handiwork, the way he crafted this hate in her. She pointed to the door, “For now, you can just get out of here and never show your face around this part of New York again. Understood?”
“If that's what you want.” Sylar nodded, reaching a perfect common ground. He could feel her eyes boring hole in the back of his neck as he left. Mohinder walked him to the door, both of them eager to end this meeting. Auld acquaintances should most definitely have been forgotten.
Sylar attempted to phase out the door but the tangibility of the hardwood prevented his grand exit. He was once again unable to access his powers. He frowned and wondered if Mohinder caught his slip up. He reached for the door handle quickly but with as much nonchalance as possible. There was no telling what the other man might do if he knew Sylar's powers weren't working right. Opening the door, he stepped out into the hallway.
Mohinder joined him in the hallway. He was in full-on scientist mode by the time they got outside. “I saw that, Sylar. You attempted to phase out of the apartment. Did something happen to your powers?”
There was no way he was going to tell the truth here, to this man. The last time Mohinder thought him powerless, he had woken up strapped to a chair with a gun shoved in his face. Sylar couldn't stop an angry comment from slipping through his lips though. “That's between me and Primatech.”
Mohinder nodded, thinking but let that topic of conversation thankfully die out. Before Sylar could leave, Mohinder asked, “Is what you say about Claire true?”
“Which part?”
“The part about her still being alive.” Mohinder whispered, closing the apartment door so the two of them could talk more privately. “I knew her father, Noah Bennett. We were trying to take down the company together when he was killed. I should have explored more of the details surrounding his death, but I believed what the police said. Too much living with Matt made them seem infallible, I suppose. Noah made me promise a long time ago, that should anything ever happen to him, I would take care of her or at least find her a safe place to go.”
“Don't worry, Mohinder.” Sylar told him. “I'm taking care of her and will do so until I can get her to Peter. Then she's his problem. You seem to have enough to deal with that one kid in there. Piercing her eyebrow, oh dear, what will she think of next. The little rebel.” He laughed at her attempt to be bad, knowing that if she were raised by Mohinder she would never be quite up to Sylar's level of rebellion. “I never figured you for a father. I thought you were a little too inept for that.”
Mohinder glared at him, saying nothing. The topic didn't seem something he wanted to discuss readily, which only made it more interesting and amusing. Before walking back into his apartment, Mohinder angrily replied. “Tell Claire where to find me. She shouldn't have to rely solely on a murder for support. If she chooses to stay with you, that's her choice.”
The door closed shut behind him and several locks were clicked into place. The past was finally removed from his view, shoved away so he wouldn't have to think of it anymore. Sylar was glad. Good riddance to a friendship that was as old as it was useless.
The final obstacle to finding Peter was behind him now. Sylar finally held proof that Peter was alive. He wasn't that far away either. He couldn't wait to share this news with Claire. It was her lucky day, it seemed. And he would get to play the hero for a little longer.
..to be continued..
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4258
Chapter: 12/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11
Summary: While escaping the Company, Sylar meets up with someone from his past. Together, they must piece together some semblance of normality after years of captivity. Future AU.
By that night, they were in Manhattan, the one city in the world where all their issues seemed to converge. The past and present met in this place, lifelines overlapping in a grand pattern that Sylar could understand only with his advanced abilities. Why were they chosen for this path? Why were the others brought here before, only for most of them to be cut down in the prime of their lives? They had experienced things there that no one should ever have to. Family members exploding, near fatal apocalypses, betrayals by those they trusted and so many deaths.
“Are you sure you don't want me to come along?” Claire asked as they walked through Kirby Plaza. She'd wanted to see what it looked like these days, what remained. The city was doing construction work here. Gates and barricades blocked them from getting that close to the place where Peter and Sylar once fought. “Maybe I can smooth things over with Mohinder. He certainly won't want to talk to you.”
“I can handle it, Claire.” Sylar was looking forward to seeing Mohinder again. Alone. They had so much to talk about but he reminded himself that their conversation would be kept strictly business. There was no time for vendettas tonight. “I'll be back at the hotel before you can even fall asleep. And we'll travel out to where ever the hell Peter is keeping himself these days and then--”
“Will you leave when it's all over?” Claire shivered against the cold weather, wrapping her arms around herself. She almost sounded hurt, though Sylar couldn't fathom why. He would have thought she'd be glad to get rid of him, especially once she was back with her family. “After we find Peter?”
“Do you want me to stay?” Silence fell between them. She was looking for a hero; he was only playing at being one. They both knew the score. After a moment, he spoke again of more pressing matters, “Go back to the hotel. Wait for me there.”
Claire nodded. Then she raised her eyebrows warningly, like he was child she was going to have to keep a close eye on. “Promise not to kill anyone?”
He frowned as the possible fun the night offered was cut in half. “I promise. Though there might be maiming involved..” When she crossed her arms and glared at him, Sylar threw his hands up in surrender. He had no power under the weight of those eyes. “Okay, okay.. no maiming either. God, you're such a killjoy.”
“Be careful, okay?” Claire quickly wrapped her arms around him and then scurried off, leaving him to wonder what that hug was all about and whether or not he was ready to give all this up. He watched as she crossed the street, already worrying about whether she would be okay alone tonight.
It wasn't safe here, not amongst the memories of the past and the dangers of the present. They were being followed, Sylar would have been a fool to believe the company would give up so easily. No, they were there, lurking in every city they stopped at just waiting for just the right moment to strike. He wouldn't be able to protect her forever and that pained him more than he could understand.
A long time ago, he had entertained the notion of being a hero of the people. Right here in this very city, this very plaza, back when Peter was about to explode and kill thousands of people. They were all there, watching as the younger boy went into a panic, his hands glowing with the powers he had empathically taken from Ted.
“Wait, no!” Sylar could see Peter in his mind now, his hands a fiery red and fear etched across his forehead. He screamed out to whoever or whatever could stop the power from building; it was uncontrollable, the explosion imminent. At that time, neither knew that Nathan would eventually come and save the world. They only knew that time was running out. “No!”
Sylar had laughed, getting to his feet, finding the whole thing amusing as hell. Yet, in that moment, he knew he had the power to stop Peter, to be the hero, to save the day. He only needed to kill him, slay the dragon and be the people's white knight. “Turns out you're the villain, Peter. I'm the hero.”
He didn't save anyone that day. Perhaps it was because he was too pissed off after Hiro stabbed him with a sword to think straight and staying alive long enough to take his next breath soon took top priority as blood drained from his open wound. Or maybe, the better answer was that he wouldn't have stopped anything from happening that day if he could have. Hell, he probably would have stopped Nathan from intervening as well.
Because he lied. He was the villain. Sylar knew it right down to his very soul, if he even had a soul anymore, after all he had done. So, why was he trying to be one now? Why was he afraid to fail this girl? Why was he bothering to attempt to get help from someone he knew would just as likely kill him as talk to him?
He exploded a ball of radiation outward from his hand, feeling the power that came from that release. At least he could access those part of himself again. His powers were certainly an asset he didn't want to be without when he went to talk to Mohinder.
It wouldn't be long before they faltered again though. He could feel the rise and fall of his abilities these days and was becoming accustomed to them failing when he most needed them to work. So why was he wasting time, helping this girl when he needed to do greater things with his powers before they failed completely and possibly forever?
Sylar thought of his mother and the small apartment she used to live in, the one in which he killed her. He never returned home after that day. Someone else was living there now probably, his old family and old life boxed up and carted away. He tried to play the hero that day too. It didn't turn out that well. She died in his arms, taking her last breath as she renounced her son.
He practically begged his mother to let him stay home that evening, to keep him there in Queens without sending him out into the world, searching for some kind of meaning in life that he would never find. He suggested a rest from that life, from being Sylar. He wanted to be himself again. “I'm tired of traveling. I think I might stay here.”
“In Queens? Why would you ever come back?” She wanted more for him, he wasn't special enough in her eyes. He couldn't exist forever as plain, old Gabriel. There was always something more around the corner, some dream of hers he need to fulfill. If only she had known the price it would cost to make those dreams come true.
“If I stayed, maybe I could stop. Maybe I wouldn't have to..” He had trailed off, his voice leaving him. She couldn't know the truth and he couldn't speak it. He couldn't stay there, even if she asked him to. Murder was already in his blood, he'd tasted it and knew how wonderful it made him feel. It was the only thing that made him feel much of anything these days.
Except that girl. Claire.
Something in him refused to let her down. So, whether he liked going back to the place where it all started or asking for help from the worthless son of a worthless man, he'd do what he needed to make it right and sacrifice what he must.
He raised another ball of energy in his hands, playing with it and watching it glow. The streets were crowded tonight but no one saw the man in the shadows illuminated by his own power. This city wasn't ready for him; it never would be. Hopefully, Mohinder would at least be hospitable once he arrived. Getting the child to cooperate might be a problem, considering he killed her parents once long ago. They could be manipulated, though, worked over until they did what he demanded.
His photographic memory recalled a Robert Frost poem, something he'd read years ago, as the wind whipped at his long, black coat. His voice slowly recalled the words, pausing over each one with depth and meaning as he left Kirby Plaza. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.”
Sylar would not rest until Claire was back with her family, as she belonged.
After a little digging, Sylar tracked Mohinder back to the small, crowded apartment in Brooklyn he now stood outside. Apartment 631. He knew the place all too well, after spending a few nights there pretending to be Zane. It was where Mohinder and him used to regroup before going out to search for more special people with abilities. Mohinder would research genetics and genomes long into the night, while Sylar slept and dreamt about each new ability he would absorb into his own body.
Then there were the nights spent staying up and talking to each other. He never let his mask drop. He was a pretty good actor, lying came naturally to him. So good in fact, that Mohinder didn't realized the person responsible for killing all those people and for killing his father was in his apartment, using his things and befriending him.
Mohinder was a decent actor himself. Sylar didn't know Mohinder figured out his real identity until he was drinking spiked Chai. After Sylar woke from the affects of the sleeping agent, their relationship only worsened. His ex-friend and betrayer had set about trying to torture him for the crime of killing his father. Somehow Sylar didn't think that was something they could brush aside so easily, even after all this time.
His hand hesitated before knocking, listening inside with his superhearing, waiting for some kind of sign that this was the right thing to do. He could hear an argument going on, between Mohinder and his adopted daughter.
“It's my body and I'll pierce whatever I feel like piercing,” the teenager screamed, stomping across the apartment floor. A door slammed, probably her bedroom. Lighter footsteps followed her and then stopped short. Sylar heard Mohinder sigh, muttering something in Indian to himself.
“Molly, come out here right now. We need to sit down and discuss this decision of yours.” Her father didn't seem to be getting anywhere, since the bedroom door remained shut. “Would you like me to get Matt on the telephone? I'll call him up right now and tell him what you did. I can promise you he won't be anymore happy about this situation than I am.”
Sylar smirked to himself, the argument amusing him to no end. The situation was about to get a heck of a lot worse. His hand tapped on the door, alerting the occupants to his arrival. When Mohinder was heard coming to answer the door, Sylar straightened up, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. He figured he would lead with his Gabriel-mask, all meek and seeking forgiveness. There would be time later to slip into something more violent if a new direction was needed after he talked to them.
The door opened and Mohinder could only stand there, taking in the sight of his old enemy with wide eyes that displayed their deep brown color. His chin dropped, gapping at the sight. “Sylar.” He hissed out his words with more vehemence than Sylar thought possible. “What are you doing here? I thought the company killed you years ago. By all accounts, they should have, at least.”
“Primatech couldn't keep me down for long. You know what they say, only the good die young.” Sylar was leaning slightly to the right, peering over Mohinder's shoulder at the closed bedroom door. The girl was in there, with the power that he needed to make things right. “I need to borrow the girl. She has something I need. It's for a friend of mine.”
The door slammed in his face. Mohinder obviously didn't want to listen to Sylar anymore. Sylar shrugged, at least he had made an attempt to play nice. From behind the door, Sylar heard him rushing to the phone and dialing the first of three numbers.
That did it. It was time to play hard ball.
Phasing through the door, he stepped into the apartment, tossing the phone across the room with a thought. It scattered into a multitude of broken pieces. “I thought we were friends, Mohinder. I came here for help and I get the door shut in my face. I don't like being turned away. You have what I need, the girl--”
“You'll get no help from me. You're a murder. You won't get another step near Molly.” As he spoke, Mohinder was slowly stepping towards his daughter's door, blocking the way into her room. Sylar could hear Molly behind the door, listening to their conversation.
“Do you remember the last time I was in this apartment?” Sylar stepped towards the kitchen, picking up a mug of what appeared to be coffee with his telekinesis. He spoke in a faraway voice, recalling times from long ago. “Do you ever think of that day? I told you something then, what was it? That I wasn't begging for my life. I was offering you yours.”
He flicked his finger and the mug dashed across the apartment. It would have hit Mohinder, if the man didn't duck. Coffee splattered across the wall, bursting from the broken mug as it slammed into the wall. Sylar cocked his head to the side, studying the pattern.
“I'm doing the same now. I won't beg. I never do. And unless you want Molly to end up an orphan yet again, you'll do what I ask of you. Now go get her.” He waited for his demands to be met, patiently and with deadly calm.
The bedroom door started moving, as a girl with red hair inched it open so she could see the scene play out. She'd heard it all and seemed to be coming out by herself. She was a good little girl, she would play along where Mohinder would not. At least one of them had brains enough not to deny him what he wanted.
Mohinder ran to the door, slamming it shut and locking his daughter in her room where she would be safe. He yelled through the door, worry seeping out of every syllable. “Molly! Stay in there, I can handle this man.” He turned back to Sylar, ready to sacrifice anything necessary in order to save his daughter. Though he should have been shaking in his shoes by now, he starred down his opponent with an immense fortitude of courage and experience. “I've dealt with him before.”
“And we all know how well that ended.” Sylar laughed. “You would have been killed if Peter hadn't showed up, your white knight coming to save your pathetic ass.” He grabbed Mohinder by the throat, pulling him up off the floor. The man choked against his hold, his two hands reaching out to grab Sylar's fingers trying desperately to pull them away. “This could have gone so better for you. I wasn't planning on getting violent, Claire seems to have a thing against using force for some reason.”
“Claire?” Mohinder squeezed out, through his tightened wind pipe.
“Yes, Claire!” Sylar threw him across the room, watching as he landed against a bookcase and then collapsed to the floor. “She's the reason I'm here, the reason I'm trying to do the right thing. We were in Primatech together. I rescued her.”
Mohinder held a hand to his head, picking himself up off the floor by using the bookshelf as leverage. He clung to one of the shelves as he regained his balance. He looked confused, but then he was always a bit too slow for his own good. “That can't be possible. The Bennets were killed by an armed robber in their home over two years ago. Claire's dead.”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Must I remind you that you thought that I was dead too. Have you never heard of the words 'cover up'? The company's been doing this for decades now, they've got kidnapping people down to a science by now. I need to find out where Peter's been keeping himself these days because I know he's still alive. He's the only family Claire has left.”
“You've escaped from the company and you want me to think you're going after an old enemy because of a girl?” Mohinder frowned, displaying complete disbelief. “And you want Molly to help you in going after him? Excuse me if I don't exactly jump at the chance to help you track him down.”
Sylar threw his hands up, shaking his head, “What is wrong with you? All I need to do is ask Molly to find one person, one stupid person and then I'll be out of your hair. You can go on playing house after I leave. That's all I'm asking for and you can't even give me that. You're pathetic.”
A slim, red-haired teenager emerged into the living room. Her eyebrow was newly pierced and she had a new attitude to go with it. This wasn't the little girl he'd tried to murder so many years ago, she was stronger now. He could see it in her eyes. “I'll help you, Sylar. But then you leave my family alone and never bother us again.”
“Molly! What are you doing? You can't trust him!” Mohinder seethed, coming to stand beside his daughter, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. She showed no signs of backing out of her offer though, bringing her atlas to the coffee table. She sat down on the couch and opened it in front of her.
Mohinder sat on the couch beside her, ready to strike out if Sylar so much as took a step towards them. Every fiber of his being was pulled taut, would up tightly on a hair trigger. He still wasn't convinced that this was the right thing to do. “I don't think this is a wise idea, Molly.”
Sylar stood in the living room, eager to watch her work. “Shut up, Mohinder.”
“Dad, he needs help. Haven't you always told me that heroes always help those in need?” Molly pleaded with her father, trying to make him see what she did. Then, starring up at the enemy, she said pointedly. “Besides, we do this for him and he might leave quietly.”
“She's right. It's the only way to get me out of here without killing anyone. And really, who needs that?” Sylar smiled devilishly. He was so close. If Mohinder only kept quiet a little longer and let his daughter get to work, Sylar could leave and get back to his journey. There wasn't anymore need for violence; he would be getting what he needed in a few short moments.
Molly opened the book, going into a semi-trance as she narrowed down her search to the right page. If only he could have stolen this power when he killed the rest of her family; it seemed so very useful. Her hands stopped on a map, roads and streets making a criss cross pattern below her fingers. She moved her finger north along an unfamiliar interstate. “Peter's in Maine. I see pine trees. Lots of them.”
Sylar grinned a wide smile. Peter was alive. He never thought he would be this happy to know that one of the Petrelli's were still breathing. But it offered the first piece of tangible proof yet for him and Claire. It also proved that he was correct, which was an added bonus. He rather liked being right.
“That's remarkable.” Mohinder seemed just as surprised to know that Peter was still alive. Apparently, the idea to back up all the cover stories he heard with his daughter's skills never occurred to him. “After what I heard--”
“Shh!” Sylar cut him off, gesturing with his hand for quiet. He turned his attention back to Molly, in wonder of her extraordinary skill and not wanting the process to be disrupted. “Let the girl work. Where in Maine is he, Molly?”
Her finger followed I-95 north and then made a left turn towards Route 202. “He's by a lake. He's in a cabin by the lake.” She stopped her finger, marking the right spot with her eyes still closed. When she opened them, Molly read the place name under her finger. “Sebago Lake, Maine. By the north side in a wooden cabin. Number 278 on Mondor Road. It's a nice place, from what I saw.”
“Oh, Molly, thank you!” Sylar could have kissed her, right then and there, but thought better of it when he saw the way Mohinder was eying him. If he made any sudden moves now, he was not going to be able to leave in such a happy mood. “If there's anything I can ever do for you--”
She shut the book abruptly and stood up with her hands on her hips. “You could start by not killing my parents, but oh, I guess it's a little too late for that.” Her attitude displayed all her hatred for him. This wound he caused in her would never heal. He could almost admire his handiwork, the way he crafted this hate in her. She pointed to the door, “For now, you can just get out of here and never show your face around this part of New York again. Understood?”
“If that's what you want.” Sylar nodded, reaching a perfect common ground. He could feel her eyes boring hole in the back of his neck as he left. Mohinder walked him to the door, both of them eager to end this meeting. Auld acquaintances should most definitely have been forgotten.
Sylar attempted to phase out the door but the tangibility of the hardwood prevented his grand exit. He was once again unable to access his powers. He frowned and wondered if Mohinder caught his slip up. He reached for the door handle quickly but with as much nonchalance as possible. There was no telling what the other man might do if he knew Sylar's powers weren't working right. Opening the door, he stepped out into the hallway.
Mohinder joined him in the hallway. He was in full-on scientist mode by the time they got outside. “I saw that, Sylar. You attempted to phase out of the apartment. Did something happen to your powers?”
There was no way he was going to tell the truth here, to this man. The last time Mohinder thought him powerless, he had woken up strapped to a chair with a gun shoved in his face. Sylar couldn't stop an angry comment from slipping through his lips though. “That's between me and Primatech.”
Mohinder nodded, thinking but let that topic of conversation thankfully die out. Before Sylar could leave, Mohinder asked, “Is what you say about Claire true?”
“Which part?”
“The part about her still being alive.” Mohinder whispered, closing the apartment door so the two of them could talk more privately. “I knew her father, Noah Bennett. We were trying to take down the company together when he was killed. I should have explored more of the details surrounding his death, but I believed what the police said. Too much living with Matt made them seem infallible, I suppose. Noah made me promise a long time ago, that should anything ever happen to him, I would take care of her or at least find her a safe place to go.”
“Don't worry, Mohinder.” Sylar told him. “I'm taking care of her and will do so until I can get her to Peter. Then she's his problem. You seem to have enough to deal with that one kid in there. Piercing her eyebrow, oh dear, what will she think of next. The little rebel.” He laughed at her attempt to be bad, knowing that if she were raised by Mohinder she would never be quite up to Sylar's level of rebellion. “I never figured you for a father. I thought you were a little too inept for that.”
Mohinder glared at him, saying nothing. The topic didn't seem something he wanted to discuss readily, which only made it more interesting and amusing. Before walking back into his apartment, Mohinder angrily replied. “Tell Claire where to find me. She shouldn't have to rely solely on a murder for support. If she chooses to stay with you, that's her choice.”
The door closed shut behind him and several locks were clicked into place. The past was finally removed from his view, shoved away so he wouldn't have to think of it anymore. Sylar was glad. Good riddance to a friendship that was as old as it was useless.
The final obstacle to finding Peter was behind him now. Sylar finally held proof that Peter was alive. He wasn't that far away either. He couldn't wait to share this news with Claire. It was her lucky day, it seemed. And he would get to play the hero for a little longer.
..to be continued..