His expression was twisted with rage as he pushed himself onto an elbow, following mohinder's retreat backward. "And how well did that fucking work out?!" he demanded. "He has a fucking family! He doesn't need you! And now, you're- you're this!" With his free hand he gestured sharply to Mohinder's bloodied visage.
Mohinder swallowed what little bit of blood he had on his tongue, some ruby streams dribbling from the corners of his mouth. He sat back when Sylar pointed out how utterly disgusting he'd become.
It was something he obviously knew but it still was no fun to hear it from a man that he respected on a very hidden, very twisted level.
"You're right. And I don't need him. I don't need you, either. You're nothing to me," he lied with venom. "Nothing more than a snack that I can find somewhere else," Mohinder added, climbing off the bed. Shiva he wanted more of Sylar's blood. That little taste had been a tease. But he had to be strong! Control his urges!
"Nn!" it wasn't even an actual word, just a sound of refusal to accept Mohinder's retreat. His hand shot out, and even if the Indian hadn't been in grasping range a moment before, he was by the time the brunette reached for him. His hand clenched around the doctor's wrist, his eyes fierce, glaring.
"Bullshit! I know what it is to fight a hunger like this, and it's torture! Do you really want to go back to scrounging vermin, or drinking dead, cold blood from plastic bags? There are three of us in all the world who can help you. One, her father will kill you without thinking twice if he found out what you did. And the second will act first for the good of the world if he's pushed. I am the only one who knows, and I am not going to let you turn your back on me now that you do, too!"
"Good," Sylar answered with satisfaction. He didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't find ways to keep Mohinder's temperature up. It was like trying to keep a gigantic lizard, but with out the advantage of heating lamps.
He cupped his hands into the steaming bath and drew up a portion of the water, pouring it over the back of Mohinder's neck and shoulders. Where it washed blood away from their skin, the water swirled an orangey pink, briefly, before the substance became lost in the slightly cloudy bath.
"I think I'll look around the house later and see what I can't find to better insulate the weak spots. This is a nice place, there aren't many, and I know you picked it for the isolation, but honestly, being snow-bound?" he tsked softly.
"I like the snow," he said, trying to ignore how much the hot water made him shiver. "Its beautiful. I miss India...this? It's just so breathtaking."
He hugged his knees to his chest and then set his chin on them, feeling warmed. "You're spoiling me." The blood and sex had been one thing, but a hot bath? Mohinder hadn't felt this warm in what seemed like ages!
"Promise me," he started. This was the beginning of the end for Mohinder. "Promise me that you'll take care of me, always." He needed that. As strong as Mohinder tried to be, Chandra raised him to constantly need approval. The kind of approval that only Sylar could give.
"Just try and get rid of me," Sylar smiled, drawing water up from the bath again, but this time in a telekinetic sphere, holding more water than his cupped hands had. It swirled between and above his palms, showering down gently onto the bloodied Indian, washing the gory smears away.
"If I had known, I'd have run with you. Angela was still keeping me locked up on Level Five, acclimating me to the idea of being part of the Petrelli clan. I was still so ready to run back then. I would have followed."
Adam, for his part, thought that this was brilliant. It was on a scale so much larger than what Linderman had planned. Right now, the disease was divisive, causing people to mistrust their neighbors, on the off chance they could be infected. In the long run, this plague would do what humanity could not do for itself. It would cull the population, return the world to more manageable numbers, and when a cure finally was found, the people would rejoice in their mutual salvation. It was perfect, and something Adam wasn't so sure needed to be hurried along.
"You certainly could be great, Doctor Suresh. I should say, you already are. But you won't fix with pebbles what was built with boulders. You'll need more than an open market chemistry set to cure this one."
Mohinder knit his brows just as Noah did the same, but for two very different reasons. "I think what I need is just to be alone with my thoughts!" he said, glancing at each man. "So far I haven't had a peaceful moment."
"I thought death was meant to be peaceful," Noah added, jolting slightly when a rather loud boom was heard outside the home.
Peter landed in the yard like a meteorite, unable to control himself because he was traveling so fast. He shook out his head and stood, brushing dirt and snow from his clothes.
"Not when you're involved, Noah," Sylar quipped, glancing toward the front, even though he was unable to see his half brother through the building. He wasn't about to leave Mohinder alone to go greet him, so the Empath would just have to find his own way to the kitchen.
"Goodness, what was that?" Adam also glanced in the general direction of the noise. No one else had panicked yet, and he never needed to, so he did little more than flinch as well.
"Peter," Mohinder said simply. Lo and behold the empath walked through the door and came into the kitchen not a minute later.
"........What'd I miss?" Peter asked, trying to lighten the heavy mood. It seemed to work, as Noah chuckled and Mohinder smiled. "And who is that?" he added, pointing to Monroe.
"This is Adam," Noah explained. He fully expected Monroe to make yet another grand-introduction to the droopy-lipped newcomer.
"That's half brilliant and half madness," Adam admitted, indeed sounding quite impressed. "The Shanti virus has been experimented with before, certain members of the Company wanting a fail-safe against people with dangerous or uncontrolled abilities. They never worked it out though, not safely anyway.
"Pity you don't have an original sample though, that might have made finding a cure for it easier," the blood frowned, glancing aside to Sylar as he joined them.
The brunette watched both, but did his best to keep his seething jealousy hidden beneath a calm, porcelain cool mask. Instead he just commented on Mohinder's explanation. "The irony just keeps getting thicker."
Mohinder shot a slightly cold look at Sylar, ashamed. "I could, perhaps, recreate it? I know that's dangerous but we may need to build it again, in order to break it down. And if we handle it, keep it within this house, there will be no chance of it spreading." Whereas, had they been at the Company there would have been a great chance for it to spread. They made an excellent choice to stay here.
"Did you hear that?" Peter asked. He took a step towards the window and then cocked his head to the side. He could swear he heard an odd clicking noise. Like a--
Peter stumbled back into a couch-side coffee table when a dart came through the window, sticking into the flesh just above his collar bone. "Sonofabitch," he slurred, and then hit the floor like a sack of rocks.
Outside, Bennet's men - who had been trailing him all the way from New York - each squared their respective rifles on the specials inside and fired. They were going on Angela Petrelli's orders, of course.
The first mistake they made was failing to fire simultaneously from the start. The second, given one of them had chosen to release early, was to fire first on anyone but Sylar.
The following darts did not find their targets. They stopped midair as though stuck in gelatin, then spun, and rocketed back on their original trajectory to find their source. Sylar was on his feet by then, outrage rolling off him in a cold, calm fury. He strode forward to the windows, looking out in search of the men who had even dared.
Mohinder acted quickly, too. He got down on his knees, gathered all of his papers into his briefcase, and then went to Peter. After plucking the dart from Peter's neck and tossing it aside, Mohinder pulled him back and around a corner, hidden from windows. "Adam! Adam if you give him some of your blood it might help him wake up faster."
Only two of the ten men surrounding the cabin were hit with Sylar's darts. The others scrambled to find better positions and reload. They all fired a second round at Sylar, hoping that at least one dart would hit him.
"Goodness, yes, it was!" Adam laughed, taking more modest bites of his own cheesy dinner. "Well... I never knew my father well. He was a sailor on a merchant ship, and I followed in his footsteps as soon as I managed to cut my mother's apron strings. She was a fair enough woman, I suppose. I was a trouble maker from the start, so I saw the flat side of her cooking spoon a few times. But yes, I suppose I liked them."
"She spanked you with spoons?" Peter asked, laughing. "I never got that, we always had chefs. They would just flick water at me when I'd sneak in there to steal food. Otherwise it was Arthur's hand or belt." He said it with ease, because it was a fact by now. No reason to be ashamed or hide it.
"Did you have siblings?" Peter would have died without Nate in the house!
"None that lived very long. I was lucky, blessed with good health, but my little brother was stillborn and my sister died of an infection of the lungs when she was a toddler. I did miss her, for many years. She was a sweet little thing," he smiled gently. "But it has been so long, it almost feels like something that happened to someone else."
Oh god, Peter's heart was aching for this man. "I'm so sorry. That's terrible. I was a Hospice Nurse for a little while so I know what it's like to lose someone. I mean, I kind of formed bonds with all my patients. It was too hard for me, I had to quit."
He was considering being a Medic, though. Some day.
Comments 736
"Took Peter instead?? Peter is a good soul!" Mohinder yelled.. "Of course I chose him!"
Blood dripped from Mohinder's chin, down his neck.
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His expression was twisted with rage as he pushed himself onto an elbow, following mohinder's retreat backward. "And how well did that fucking work out?!" he demanded. "He has a fucking family! He doesn't need you! And now, you're- you're this!" With his free hand he gestured sharply to Mohinder's bloodied visage.
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It was something he obviously knew but it still was no fun to hear it from a man that he respected on a very hidden, very twisted level.
"You're right. And I don't need him. I don't need you, either. You're nothing to me," he lied with venom. "Nothing more than a snack that I can find somewhere else," Mohinder added, climbing off the bed. Shiva he wanted more of Sylar's blood. That little taste had been a tease. But he had to be strong! Control his urges!
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"Nn!" it wasn't even an actual word, just a sound of refusal to accept Mohinder's retreat. His hand shot out, and even if the Indian hadn't been in grasping range a moment before, he was by the time the brunette reached for him. His hand clenched around the doctor's wrist, his eyes fierce, glaring.
"Bullshit! I know what it is to fight a hunger like this, and it's torture! Do you really want to go back to scrounging vermin, or drinking dead, cold blood from plastic bags? There are three of us in all the world who can help you. One, her father will kill you without thinking twice if he found out what you did. And the second will act first for the good of the world if he's pushed. I am the only one who knows, and I am not going to let you turn your back on me now that you do, too!"
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He cupped his hands into the steaming bath and drew up a portion of the water, pouring it over the back of Mohinder's neck and shoulders. Where it washed blood away from their skin, the water swirled an orangey pink, briefly, before the substance became lost in the slightly cloudy bath.
"I think I'll look around the house later and see what I can't find to better insulate the weak spots. This is a nice place, there aren't many, and I know you picked it for the isolation, but honestly, being snow-bound?" he tsked softly.
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He hugged his knees to his chest and then set his chin on them, feeling warmed. "You're spoiling me." The blood and sex had been one thing, but a hot bath? Mohinder hadn't felt this warm in what seemed like ages!
"Promise me," he started. This was the beginning of the end for Mohinder. "Promise me that you'll take care of me, always." He needed that. As strong as Mohinder tried to be, Chandra raised him to constantly need approval. The kind of approval that only Sylar could give.
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"Just try and get rid of me," Sylar smiled, drawing water up from the bath again, but this time in a telekinetic sphere, holding more water than his cupped hands had. It swirled between and above his palms, showering down gently onto the bloodied Indian, washing the gory smears away.
"If I had known, I'd have run with you. Angela was still keeping me locked up on Level Five, acclimating me to the idea of being part of the Petrelli clan. I was still so ready to run back then. I would have followed."
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...It was fitting for Sylar, sure. But he thought the man could be better than that. Better than any of them, if he tried.
Mohinder never wanted to believe that Peter had Petrelli blood in his veins, either. It was like night and day when comparing him to Nathan.
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"You certainly could be great, Doctor Suresh. I should say, you already are. But you won't fix with pebbles what was built with boulders. You'll need more than an open market chemistry set to cure this one."
Behind his tea cup, Sylar smirked.
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"I thought death was meant to be peaceful," Noah added, jolting slightly when a rather loud boom was heard outside the home.
Peter landed in the yard like a meteorite, unable to control himself because he was traveling so fast. He shook out his head and stood, brushing dirt and snow from his clothes.
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"Goodness, what was that?" Adam also glanced in the general direction of the noise. No one else had panicked yet, and he never needed to, so he did little more than flinch as well.
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"........What'd I miss?" Peter asked, trying to lighten the heavy mood. It seemed to work, as Noah chuckled and Mohinder smiled. "And who is that?" he added, pointing to Monroe.
"This is Adam," Noah explained. He fully expected Monroe to make yet another grand-introduction to the droopy-lipped newcomer.
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"Pity you don't have an original sample though, that might have made finding a cure for it easier," the blood frowned, glancing aside to Sylar as he joined them.
The brunette watched both, but did his best to keep his seething jealousy hidden beneath a calm, porcelain cool mask. Instead he just commented on Mohinder's explanation. "The irony just keeps getting thicker."
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"Did you hear that?" Peter asked. He took a step towards the window and then cocked his head to the side. He could swear he heard an odd clicking noise. Like a--
Peter stumbled back into a couch-side coffee table when a dart came through the window, sticking into the flesh just above his collar bone. "Sonofabitch," he slurred, and then hit the floor like a sack of rocks.
Outside, Bennet's men - who had been trailing him all the way from New York - each squared their respective rifles on the specials inside and fired. They were going on Angela Petrelli's orders, of course.
Reply
The following darts did not find their targets. They stopped midair as though stuck in gelatin, then spun, and rocketed back on their original trajectory to find their source. Sylar was on his feet by then, outrage rolling off him in a cold, calm fury. He strode forward to the windows, looking out in search of the men who had even dared.
Reply
Only two of the ten men surrounding the cabin were hit with Sylar's darts. The others scrambled to find better positions and reload. They all fired a second round at Sylar, hoping that at least one dart would hit him.
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"Did you have siblings?" Peter would have died without Nate in the house!
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He was considering being a Medic, though. Some day.
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