Hello, to all of you out there still reading this. First of all, sorry for the long absence. Life got in the way, and until now I felt it wasn´t the right time to post this new story. But now it is done, and I think it´s about time. So here we are. I hope you enjoy it. I still do.
Disclaimer: If anything this story owns me.
Crossroads
The police station had never been so busy, at least not that Peter could remember. Not on the day they´d arrested and questioned him, nor on any other day he´d been here over the last few years. But times had been different back then. Very different. At least from what he´d heard.
He made his way through the hall, heading for the bullpen, taking in all the things that weren´t even there. Not to him anyway. The only thing he was interested in were the three people standing around the desk ahead. The desk of one junior detective Juliet O´Hara.
"Shawn." he called out, causing a simultaneous turn around of the three of them.
"Peter." Juliet cried, startled about seeing him there. "What …?"
"I took the first plane." the young New Yorker explained hurriedly. "Is it true what I heard? The victim was …?"
The three people nodded.
"His head was open." Gus told him, shivering visibly at the thought. "The brain was still inside though. He probably got interrupted."
"But …" Peter shook his head, irritated.
He´d known the rumors of course, that had been the reason why he´d come here as fast as possible. Because he knew Noah. And Lassiter. And these two would not hesitate to interpret everything only their own way, without even considering to listen to any other voice. A voice like Juliet´s for example. Or Shawn´s, who Peter still believed to be on Sylar´s side, at least until some real hard evidence would prove otherwise. A dead man with an open head was pretty hard evidence though. Something Peter hadn´t expected – or rather hoped for not to exist.
"That´s not like Sylar." he tried to convince himself by saying this out loud. "Why should he do that? After all that he´s been through."
"We don´t know." Juliet agreed, sadness and exhaustion evident in her voice.
Peter took a deep breath, feeling her confused desperation like his own. He knew Sylar could always change back to what he´d been before, especially when something traumatic happened to him, something as dramatic as being chased again, by everyone. And they still didn´t know what happened to him and Mohinder out there in the desert. If the geneticist had died out there and Sylar had been forced to watch it, it might have been enough to tip the scales for him again. Peter just didn´t know. Not anymore.
Maybe it had been Molly´s reaction. When Bennet had asked her to find Mohinder for them – Sylar – she´d closed her eyes, but she´d never given them an answer. Just walked away from them and locked herself in her room. Maybe it was this that made Peter doubt. That made him fear the worst case scenario could have come true after all. Because they just didn´t know. But there had been something in her eyes …
"O´Hara." the harsh voice of Carlton Lassiter echoed through the station, making them all swirl around.
The head detective approached with wide strides, Noah Bennet right by his side. "We tracked them down." he announced, giving Peter a frowning side glance, hardly acknowledging his presence. "A motel at the city limits." he finished his statement.
"Them?" Juliet repeated, listening up at once and Lassiter nodded.
"The last witnesses talked about a white guy with black hair and a second man with dark skin. Possible Indian type."
"Mohinder." Peter exclaimed.
"When did you arrive?" Noah finally addressed Peter´s presence.
"Just now." Peter answered, quickly, and that was it. All attention was back at the case at hand.
"It is them." Lassiter stated, no argument allowed. "I told you the son of a bitch would come back. But this time we´ll get him. Parkman´s already outside. We´re heading out. McNab!"
With that he´d turned around and was already on his way out, Noah right at his heels. The four less eager people had no other choice but to follow, and hope for the best.
...
"It doesn´t make any sense." Peter spoke, from the backseat of the car, that was speeding down the highway, Juliet behind the wheel and Parkman in the passenger seat. "Why should Sylar kill a man? If Mohinder is with him …"
"Are you kidding?" Parkman cried, shooting him a glance. "Because he´s a killer, Peter. He always was and he always will be."
"There´s no indication of that man having an ability." Juliet supported Peter, her hands clinging to the wheel in high concentration, while she held the course of the car astoundingly steady, considering the insane speed she had to drive, in order to follow the car of her partner. "We don´t know what reason …"
"Dear god!" Parkman talked over her. "Are you still on that track that Sylar could have had a reason that excuses the murder of this man?"
"We do know the victim was dealing drugs." Juliet spoke, reasonable. "He is a criminal. Was. I´m just saying we shouldn´t jump to conclusions before we have all the information."
Parkman only laughed, one time, hard and uncompromising. "You´re so naive." he stated, earning himself a deadly glare from the detective.
"Careful Parkman." Peter spoke, regarding her gaze. "Very thin ice."
"I hope you realize that I´ll be your backup." Juliet reminded the cop from L.A. who was technically not even part of this operation.
"That´s why I hope you understand what we´re fighting here." Matt shot back, not the slightest intimidated by her subtle warning. "I thought you guys have experience with Sylar. He always ends up insane again. He is. A killer."
"Not when Mohinder was with him." Juliet recalled, absolutely calm, voice steady. "Sylar was good while he was there."
Peter glanced at Parkman, anticipating the other man´s answer. But Parkman only huffed, dismissing the said.
"Mohinder is weak too." he stated. "He made a lot of mistakes."
Juliet glanced at him, briefly. "And you didn´t?"
Again Peter waited for the mind reader to say something in return, but nothing came. Matt only looked out of the window, ahead at the street, everywhere but at any of them.
"O´Hara." Lassiter´s voice came from the radio. "We´re almost there. Get ready for clearing the perimeter."
Peter had no idea how she managed to reach for the radio without losing control over the car, but she made it.
"Roger." she answered the call, swift and professional. "S.W.A.T. is five minutes behind us."
"We´ll approach from the other side." Lassiter replied. "See you there. Over."
Juliet didn´t respond, just hung the radio back and kept driving, eyes on the road, determined.
...
"You guys know it is pure suicide to attack Sylar like that." Shawn spoke behind Lassiter and Bennet, just to make sure he wasn´t driving with two lunatics. "Even with a S.W.A.T. team, he has the upper hand." he recalled.
"Not this time." Bennet replied, confidently. He fished a small case out of the inner pocket of his jacket, removing a dart from it. Some white liquid was in there, Shawn could see.
"What´s that?" he asked.
"Glycimerine." Bennet answered, loading the dart into his gun. "A tranquilizer if you want."
"You want to shoot him?" Shawn cried, his hands digging into the backrest of Lassiter´s seat.
"Sedate him." Bennet replied, more affirming than correcting. "I only need a clean shot."
"You´ll have one." Lassiter promised, steering the car to the next turn. Not one that led to the motel they were heading for, Shawn noticed. Juliet´s car behind them, didn´t follow. They kept driving down the street, heading for the motel, only a few hundred yards ahead. Shawn exchanged a glance with Gus. His friend looked as uncomfortable as he was. No one said another word.
Lassiter stopped the car at the top of a hillside, to drop Noah off, and turned the car around, driving back down, smooth and efficiently. Shawn couldn´t do anything but cling to the seat and watch what would happen.
Barely five minutes later they reached the parking lot of the Sundown Motel, stopping right next to Juliet´s car, with squeaking tires.
"O´Hara." Lassiter barked. "You take care of the guests as soon as we know the place. Spencer."
Shawn jumped, hurrying after Lassiter. He had only one reason to be here and that was a reason he started to like less and less. Because if he succeeded – and the odds were pretty good, that he would succeed – he would help Lassie and Bennet to take down Sylar in a very ungentle way. Then again, why did he keep following when Lassiter urged him forward? He wasn´t sure.
"Everyone else take positions and stay ready." Lassiter ordered, one last time, before heading for the receptionist´s office. "Move."
Shawn glanced over his shoulder at Gus, and saw the S.W.A.T. guys taking position around the place, going into hiding, just like the cops, like Juliet and Buzz and Parkman, so no one would see them surrounding the place.
So if anyone looked out the window they´d only see the parking lot. No reason for anyone to get alarmed. This was so not good.
...
Mohinder Suresh sat in his room, head buried in his hands, fingers clinging to his hair, desperately. He was trying to think and fast. Since he´d seen the news this morning, he knew that time was running out. But like always when something needed to come fast, nothing wanted to move. Especially not in his head. Dammit, think, he urged himself.
Outside, he heard a car stopping, tires squeaking, as if the driver was in a hurry. Then a door got slammed. Someone was shouting something but he didn´t understand the words. He heard all this through the walls, dull and faint, more feeling the noise than actually hearing it. The parking lot was on the other side of the place, so technically he shouldn´t be able to hear anything, but he did. He did. He´d heard it ever since they´d gotten here. To hide.
The news were still on. The TV was silent by now, but Mohinder didn´t need to hear the reporter´s voice to know what they were saying. A man dead, his head open, brain exposed. Dammit. Why did this have to happen? Why?
After another moment of contemplation he got up, not able to sit still any longer, and left his room. He took the time to walk to the end of the building to peek around the corner, into the parking lot behind the motel. No one was to be seen. Everything was quiet. But just because he didn´t see anyone didn´t mean no one was there, some ominous voice whispered in the back of his head. The part of him that had learned to be paranoid over the years.
Mohinder cursed in silence and hurried back, stopping at the door, a few doors from his own room. He didn´t knock, just entered, quickly, in a hurry that had overcome him just now as it seemed. As if he´d indeed seen someone lurking out there.
"Sylar." he hissed, at the man idly reading a paperback on the bed, his arm behind his head. "Get up." he urged. "We need to leave. Now."
"What?" Sylar sat up, startled. "Why that?"
Mohinder needed all his willpower to keep himself from punching Sylar in the face, for being able to just lie there and read, in such a situation. Instead he grabbed the remote and switched on the little TV in the corner of the room, showing Sylar the news he´d been following until now.
"That´s why." he snapped.
...
Lassiter held out two photographs to the receptionist, behind the counter. A young woman, with spiky black hair and awfully thick mascara.
"Do you recognize these two?" he demanded to know. "They must have checked in last night."
"Sorry." the girl shrugged, chewing her gum. "My shift started only an hour ago. I have no idea how anyone looks who checked in last night."
"Dammit." Lassiter grumbled. "Okay, let me see all your last night bookings. I need to see their names."
The girl raised a brow, but did as he´d asked. She typed something into her computer, bringing up last night´s check ins.
"Spencer!" Lassiter waved a hand. "Tell me you know where they are."
Shawn went behind the counter, stepping in front of the computer and skimmed the data that was shown there. Of course Sylar wouldn´t check in under his real name, they all knew that, but after a minute of looking, Shawn figured he´d found two names that seemed to fit the two men they were looking for.
"Room number 305." he said, reluctantly, meeting Lassiter´s eyes. He so hated it that he had no choice here.
The detective nodded, once. "O´Hara." he spoke into his radio. "It´s number 305. Get the guests out of the other rooms, now. And clear the perimeter. We´re coming out." Without waiting for her response, he switched the channel. "Noah …"
...
Sylar stared at the screen, his mouth open, as if he really didn´t know what to think about this. Mohinder just couldn´t believe it. This guy was unbelievable. Should this really be such a surprise to him? One should think that someone that was on the run, watched the news at least once or twice. But no, not Sylar. Why should he?
The killer turned towards him, eyes wide, like the personalized innocence.
"You think they´ll suspect you might have something to do with that?" the geneticist asked, arms crossed over his chest. It wasn´t really a question.
"That wasn´t me." Sylar claimed.
"It doesn´t matter who it was." Mohinder shot back. "What do you think will happen now?"
Finally, finally Sylar seemed to understand.
"We need to leave California." Mohinder stated. "Before they find us. We should have never come here. I don´t wanna get caught in a crossfire."
Sylar just sat there, eyes cast down, almost humbly accepting everything the other man had said. He nodded.
"All right." He closed the book he´d been reading, getting up in a haze. "You´re right, we should leave."
...
Shawn looked out of the window of the receptionist´s office, watching the S.W.A.T. guys hurrying over the place, quickly and silent like cats. Gus was by his side, eyes as worried as he was, maybe not for the same reasons but worried nonetheless. He unwrapped the candy bar he´d gotten from the small vending machine, eyes never leaving the window, and bit into it, almost desperately.
Shawn could relate to that feeling. God, he so wished he´d never told Lassie the correct room. But what was he supposed to do? Sometimes he believed that there were things happening in this world, that were just not meant to be stopped, no matter how much you wanted it. And this was one of them.
He´d known it from the minute these two cops had reported to have spotted Sylar at the gas station, just outside of Santa Barbara. A blown up black and white was not something the cops were about to forget that easily. And somehow, from that moment on, Shawn had known that things were out of his hands. That he wouldn´t be able to do anything. Only standing by and watch. God, he hated that.
Outside the S.W.A.T. team had begun to clear the motel rooms around the place, quickly urging the other guests out and away from here. Out of the line of fire, that soon would ensue around here.
...
Mohinder walked to the door, leaving Sylar to pack his stuff on his own. His hand had just touched the door handle, to push it down.
"Mohinder." Sylar called him back, his voice almost begging, the only reason why the geneticist actually stopped to listen. He turned around when Sylar didn´t say anything, meeting eyes that almost looked earnest.
"It wasn´t me." the killer repeated one more time, and Mohinder sighed.
"I know."
...
Lassiter ducked behind his car, just like the rest of the S.W.A.T. team members. O´Hara and Parkman were standing ready behind the other car, both of them ready for whatever might happen. The door to room number 305 was right ahead of them. So far no one had come out of it. The S.W.A.T. team had cleared the perimeter quietly and efficiently. So far so good.
Lassiter took his radio.
"Noah, we´re getting ready. Over."
"I can see you." came the calm response from the sniper. "I´m waiting for your move."
Lassiter changed the channel again, to the operating line this time.
"Get started." he ordered. Nothing more.
On the other side of the parking lot he could see a movement. A person that looked like someone that worked for the motel but didn´t approached the door. The door everybody had watched since they´d gotten here. Lassiter grabbed his gun tighter, and he was sure he wasn´t the only one.
The disguised agent reached the door with the number 305 … and knocked.
...
Mohinder jerked his hand away from the doorhandle when the knocking took him by surprise. Sylar took a step towards him, tensed as he was, listening.
"Yeah?" he called, carefully.
"It´s the chambermaid, sir?" a female voice called through the door.
Sylar closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling in relieve.
"Just another minute." he called.
Outside the chambermaid moved on to the next room for the time being.
...
"All right. Everybody at the ready." Lassiter whispered into the radio, never leaving the door out of his sight. And then, finally, after what had seemed like an eternity, the door got opened, the occupant of the room stepping out, totally unaware of the trap he´d just walked into.
The moment Lassiter saw his face, his heart skipped a beat. A second later, Noah´s dart had hit the guy in his chest and brought him down to the ground. His partner came running to the door, kneeling down next to the unconscious man, while the S.W.A.T. team closed in, quickly. The dark-skinned man raised his hands, shouting something in Spanish, near to a panic, facing all the guns pointing at him.
Lassiter crossed the parking lot, never lowering his gun, but he could already tell that his sidearm was not needed here. Not at all. Not even Noah´s would have been needed. But he needed to see them near and without any doubt, to believe what had just happened here. The man on the ground, white, dark hair, thick eyebrows. The guy cowering beside him, dark skin, curly hair. Mexican.
"Dammit." he cursed. "Where the hell is Sylar?"
The whimpering Mexican just looked up at him, at all of them, completely lost, and stammered something in Spanish. Lassiter just couldn´t believe it. But it was Parkman´s curse that made the guy on the ground really jump with fear.
"Dammit." the mind reader shouted, hitting the door frame in his anger. "We lost him!"
...
On the other side of the continent, Angela Petrelli jumped out of her armchair with a gasp, waking up from a short nap. Only that this short nap had not brought her any kind of rest. Quite the contrary.
Every time her dreams came to her in such an invading manner, stronger than reality and unasked by her, she felt as if she´d fallen out of a rollercoaster in full speed. Especially when it concerned a subject like the one she´d encountered this time.
Sometimes she wondered if this man would ever leave them alone. After what Peter had told her about Coyote Sands and what had happened there to him and Nathan – God, she still couldn´t believe she could actually say his name again without having to think of a gravestone – she´d hoped that Sylar´d met his maker after all. Or at least that he´d been buried, somewhere out there, to never return. But as it seemed something as evil as this man, could never stay buried, not even by the hand of her sister.
Sylar had a way of surviving things and of coming back when they least expected it. Just like this time. Her dream might have been a fuzz but at least one thing had been very clear to her. Sylar would be back for them, very soon. And when he came things would go south very quickly. And it would all start in Santa Barbara. At a diner of some sorts.
Where exactly she didn´t know. Only that there was a young girl working there. Young enough to be still a child really. Silver blonde hair was falling over her shoulders, shy eyes looking out into the world. A world that would fall apart around her, into burning pieces. And over all of this, there was Sylar. Always Sylar.
Angela had no idea who this girl was that had been swallowed by the destruction in her dream, but she knew one thing. Sylar was the reason. For all of it. And the destruction she´d seen in her dream would only be the beginning. Because it had been spreading fast and she´d only missed to see it swallow the rest of the world, because she´d woken up. If she hadn´t, who knew if she´d made it out of this dream alive herself.
...
Sylar entered the small diner downstairs of the motel, where Mohinder was sitting in a corner booth, a coffee before him, waiting. Sylar took his seat opposite of him.
"So now, where do we go?" he asked. "And how?" He looked around briefly, as if to make sure no one else would listen. "Do we take a car from out there?"
Mohinder didn´t answer, just stared at him seriously.
"What?" Sylar asked, irritated. "What is it now?"
Mohinder looked down, into his coffee. "I was thinking." he started, before looking up again, to meet Sylar´s eyes. "I believe we have to go through with the plan after all."
For a moment, the killer only looked back at him, taken by surprise, at least a little. It wasn´t that he hadn´t expected that, but not so soon.
"Is there really no other way?" he asked but Mohinder´s gaze was unmistakable. No, there wasn´t.
Eventually Sylar nodded, subtly, and Mohinder mirrored the nod. He gazed over to the waitress, stepping out of the kitchen and Sylar followed his gaze. The young woman hadn´t noticed them, she was busy with the handkerchiefs she carried. Her blonde hair fell into her face and she wiped it away.
The killer clenched his jaw, his eyes anywhere but at the man on the other side of the table, who was waiting for his answer.
"All right." he spoke at last. "Under one condition."
"What?"
Sylar met his gaze. "That we go actually through with the plan. No matter what happens."
"That was the deal, as far as I …"
"And that you keep your part of the bargain. No matter what happens."
Mohinder´s gaze never faltered. "I will." he said, voice even.
"Then I´ll do i …"
"Under one condition."
Sylar halted. "What?"
"That you won´t do anything to manipulate it into happening."
For another minute Sylar didn´t say anything, only held the gaze of the other man. Eventually he chuckled, only to get serious again the next second. Dead serious.
"I won´t." he said.
"Your word."
"Yours?"
Mohinder nodded, no hesitation at all. "And if it means the end of the world."
Sylar knew Mohinder was joking, at least trying to do so. Neither of them wanted the world to end. But things would change drastically and as soon as they started this, there would be no going back afterward. It was a decision and they´d taken it. No matter what. This would be the end of it. The one way or the other. He watched the young waitress, so innocent, how she placed the handkerchiefs on the tables. Eventually he returned Mohinder´s nod, totally serious.
"All right then."
"When do we do it?"
Mohinder didn´t answer, not with words anyway. He just stood up, waving for the waitress, who hurried and brought them two bags. Breakfast, already bagged for the road. Mohinder took them from her and gave her a polite smile, before heading for the door.
"It´s your turn." he told Sylar and his gaze didn´t leave any room for argument. It was now or never.
Sylar sighed.
He got up and turned to the girl, laying a hand on her arm, only for a moment. The gesture startled her even if she didn´t show it. He smiled, a silent goodbye and she smiled back, uncertain. It was amazing, he thought to himself. She had no idea, not a bit, how special she was. But soon she would know. Very soon.
He turned away from her, to the door, and followed Mohinder outside, leaving the startled girl behind. It was in her own hands now. Just as everything else was in theirs. It was all, in the end, a part of fate´s plan, for all of them. And maybe the question had never been about if, but only when.
...
There are moments in our lives, when we reach crossroads – when we have to decide what direction will be the right one to take. Maybe we´ve been heading there all along – without even knowing it. And all the sudden, we have to face the question, if we want to keep fighting this path fate has set for us – or if we accept it. In the end, we all have to take that decision, if we want it or not. And so – here we are. Facing a future, we´ve chosen all on our own. And we still can´t know what it holds.
