Opening the Door of Pandora
The garden felt different than it used to, somehow wider than last time Shawn had been here. Shady. The weather had just partly to do with that impression. The sky was clouded and the atmosphere was creepy to say the least. Perfect for someone like Sylar to meet up with him.
Because it´s the perfect trap? A mean voice in the back of his mind whispered. The voice in the dark corner. The one he´d learned to trust while working for a certain task force under a certain fake President, in a certain life that had technically never been.
Damn, that was confusing. To be paranoid because of an experience you never had. But the thing was, he had had it. He remembered it. He remembered it well. And in that life the name Sylar had been associated with evil. Deviousness. And trickery. Deadly trickery. Shawn had seen many victims that had fallen for this man´s tricks and traps and so he´d learned to respect him. Not quite fear him but respect him.
And even though he remembered this current life too – of course, it was the real one, the one that was supposed to really happen – where he was friends with the guy and just knew Sylar was friendly, he still couldn´t help it. This voice in the corner. It was still there. It would always be there. And right now it was screaming, inside of his head, to turn around and run, out of his dad´s garden, hidden behind hedges and trees and into the open, where Sylar had not that much of an advantage over him. Where he couldn´t kill him that easily to saw his head open and steal his power.
"Hello, Shawn." the deep voice of the killer spoke from out of the shadows and Shawn jumped.
He swirled around, heart thudding like crazy, and he looked into the smiling face of the man he´d hunted for two years. In another life. The guy that had once tried to kill him and steal his life, that had later saved his life a few times, the whole world even, always swearing that he wanted to change, to be a good person again. And Shawn had believed him. He still did.
Quietly, without letting it show in his face, he wondered if Gus was already in the house and found a good shooting position.
"Dude." he exclaimed, chuckling nervously, one hand grasping his shirt. "I´m so glad to see you. I knew you were alive. I just knew it."
Sylar smiled at him, solemnly. "Of course you knew. Psychic."
Shawn laughed at this, obediently. "Yeah, right." he managed it to compose himself somewhat. "So what´s up?" he asked. "Where´s the Doc?"
Sylar, still smiling, raised both brows and asked in return: "Where´s Gus?"
Again Shawn laughed and pointed a finger. "Got me. Well, Gus is … he´s working. You know … doing his thing."
Still this unsettling smile on the killer´s face. And then this nod, along with the scrutinizing gaze.
"You´re telling the truth." Sylar found.
"Of course I do." Shawn replied. He too was still smiling. Only by now it just had to look forced. He spread his arms. "So what can I do for you?"
...
Somewhere in a backroom of Henry Spencer´s house, Burton Guster just found his perfect position. The small widow over the flight of the stairs, that looked out over the back yard. From there he could see everything. He could see Shawn and even better, he could see Sylar, standing under a tree, just in his line of fire, as if he´d known where Gus would be and wanted to help him.
Of course that thought was ridiculous. But Gus liked the idea of it. That his inner Jackal could be that good. That maybe some part of him had known all along that this was the perfect spot for him to be. And now all he had to do, was silently open the window and aim at Sylar´s neck with the gun. He might not be as good as Shawn or Lassiter but Gus had had some shooting lessons too. After all those events they´d been through, who wouldn´t? He would hit him. He would bring Sylar down. He. God, that was so exciting.
He carefully reached for the window and opened it, slowly, careful to not to make a sound. Outside he heard Shawn laugh about something, nervously. It was time to make his move. He would not give this murderer a chance to do something first. If he wanted to talk, he could as well do it with some Glycimerine in his system.
Gus aimed, with one eye, his finger lightly on the trigger.
A faint sound was audible, just behind him, like a breeze that ruffled the rug on the ground. The next thing Gus knew was that he had something poking in his back that felt suspiciously like a gun. A strong hand grasped his shoulder.
"Hello, Gus." a familiar, accented voice spoke into his ear.
...
"You know, I always found it amazing how you managed it to trick lie detectors, Shawn. Even me."
Shawn chuckled. "What? Dude, I have no idea what you´re talking about."
Sylar moved his head a little, before actually shaking it. "Now that was a lie." he revealed.
"Okay." Shawn admitted. "I meant … I … Of course I remember what you´re … referring to. But, dude. I came here, the way you asked me to. Why do you think I´d lie to you?"
Sylar only looked at him, his smile still on his lips, almost gentle. His eyes jumped to something behind Shawn, only for a moment, and when he looked him in the eyes again, he lay his head askew, as if he was looking at a child.
"I so would have liked to believe you." he said. "After such a long time, we should be over all these trust issues."
It needed only a heartbeat and Shawn knew what was going on behind him. He wouldn´t have needed to turn around, or Gus´ shout for that matter.
"Shawn run, it´s a trap!"
"Gus." Shawn finally turned around, eyes wide, when he saw Mohinder Suresh leading Gus around the corner, like a kidnapper that got ready to hand over the hostage in exchange for the money. He even seemed to threaten him with a gun, considering Gus´ raised hands.
"Dude." Shawn exclaimed. "Ehm. What are you doing here?"
"Cut the crap, Shawn." Mohinder snapped. "I found him upstairs, aiming a gun at him." With that he held up the gun, Shawn had given Gus, but not for Shawn to see it. "Full of Glycimerine." he informed Sylar. "Seems you were right."
The killer smirked, nodding at Shawn. "You learned something from Noah, after all."
"Honestly, dude. That was only for safety. And that is something I learned from my dad, by the way."
"I´m sure he´d be proud."
The killer threw a gaze at his partner in crime and Mohinder released Gus with a small push, revealing what he´d held against his back. The handle of a knife, not a gun.
When Gus saw this his mouth dropped open in disbelieve. "What? Are you kidding? You never even had a gun?"
Mohinder didn´t answer. He merely turned the knife around and brought the blade to Gus´ throat, almost nonchalantly.
"No." he affirmed, holding Gus in place with a firm grip on his shoulder.
Gus swallowed, dryly.
"Hey, guys." Shawn cried. "Would you stop this? You know how my dad thinks about dead things in his yard."
"Shawn!" Gus snapped, before fearfully facing the geneticist again. "What do you want from us?" he asked.
"Just what I said on the phone." Sylar answered. "We wanted to ask for your help."
"Our help?" Gus snapped, getting angry at the mere idea, but reconsidered his mood, when the blade dug a little deeper into his skin.
"Yes." Mohinder answered his question, stony faced. "Unfortunately you´re the only ones we can turn to, to get this done smoothly."
Shawn met the terrified eyes of his friend, reading confusion there, and he could relate to that. He turned back to Sylar.
"To get what done?" he asked.
...
The door stuck a little, just like everyday, when Lucy turned the key in the lock. It was tiring to curse over it, each time she almost broke her hand when entering her apartment. She wished the landlord had been generous enough to exchange the door, after it had obviously been broken a few times, before she´d moved in. Damn, she even could still see the damage at the frame around the lock. That one had been fixed, at least enough to keep the door from opening with every little draft. But damn, that was just bad service. Cheap bastard.
But the apartment had been cheap too so Lucy didn´t complain. Too much effort to raise a complain anyway. Especially since she knew it wouldn´t change a thing.
She dropped her bag on the floor and herself onto the couch, sighing. Finally home. Damn, what a day. After a minute of restful breathing she got her laptop and switched it on, checking her e-mails first before she´d start to get lost in the width of the internet for at least an hour or so.
The usual heap of junk mails was accompanied by something that caught her attention this time. It was an invitation, an automatic email her facebook account had send her. Someone wanted to friend her. A girl. A name Lucy recognized at once, and not for the best.
No, she thought, in disbelieve. That must be a coincidence. Someone else that happens to share the same name. There´s no way that this is her.
Immediately Lucy went to her facebook account, to check out who´d spotted her there, hoping to find her theory confirmed. Because if that was really who she thought it was … but no. That just couldn´t be.
She found the site and started to read through the account of this girl. Manuela Descada. Sure the name was not that common but there was always the possibility of a strange coincidence. Why would she, of all people, want to be her friend? After all that had been back then? No way.
Lucy clicked at the section for pictures and looked through them. A lot of pictures of dogs and cats and people she didn´t know. And then the solution. A picture of two girls sitting on the hood of a car, smiling into the camera. And Lucy knew both of them.
For a moment she just sat there, staring at the two familiar faces. So it was her. What the hell? How could she even dare to send her a message like that? To be her what? Friend? That had to be a joke. The same kind of sick jokes they´d made back then.
But that had been years ago. And now? What now? She´d found her by coincidence on a random day on the internet? And the first thing she thought was: Let´s send her a message? Let´s make up for all that once was? She must be kidding. It was probably more like what they´d done back then, a way to mock her. Just like in the old days.
Lucy could only laugh, not knowing what else to do with this, and deleted the invitation from her account. After this, her wish to stroll through the internet was gone, lost in that dull anger she felt about this … this insult. So she switched off and went to the bathroom. She would need at least half an hour in pure heat and some nice music to get this off her mind.
...
Angela missed the right buttons three times and had to dial again, before she got the connection she wanted. Her hands were shaking that much. She only hoped she wouldn´t be too late to reach Noah Bennet. That last dream of hers had had the classic feeling of showing her something that had already happened. And that usually meant it was already in the process of happening. Damn, of course it was already happening. She could feel it, deep down in her bones.
In her ear she heard the sound of the phone ringing. Two times. Three times. Dammit, Noah, pick up. Pick up.
But he didn´t. For some reason he didn´t. And Angela had the bad feeling she already knew the reason. Because in her dream the phone had been ringing too. And was never answered.
...
"Carlton." Noah cried, when he entered the police station. The detective looked up from his file. "What´s the matter?" the company man asked. "Why should I come here so urgently?"
Lassiter frowned. "What?"
"Shawn called me, about ten minutes ago, said I should come here ASAP. So what´s the matter?"
"I don´t know anything." Lassiter said but in that moment the fake psychic called out for them.
"Pssst. Guys." he hissed at them, from the entrance of the conference room. He waved a hand. "Over here. Hurry."
He vanished inside without an explanation, leaving the two men baffled. The shades of the room were blinded, so they could only guess that there was something going on, that no one else was supposed to see. Suspicious to say the least, they made their way over to the door.
"Spencer?" Lassiter asked. "What is this?"
Shawn only looked at them, Gus standing behind him, quietly, worried. Tensed. Someone closed the door behind them. They turned around, startled and faced Juliet, looking at them with hideous eyes.
"O´Hara? What´s going on here?"
"We needed to talk to you." she answered. "Both of you."
"Why?" Bennet asked. In his pocket his cell phone started to ring, and he attempted to reach for it.
"Don´t answer that!" Shawn cried, dramatically holding out his hands as if Noah could set off a bomb by reaching into his pocket.
"Why?" the company man asked but he´d already noticed the movement in the corner of his eyes. Someone had stepped forward, from out of the corner.
"Suresh." Lassiter growled, reaching for his gun. "What is this, a set up?"
"Just listen to him, Carlton." Juliet said.
"Mohinder." Bennet nodded at the Indian. His hand was still frozen halfway to his inner pocket, to answer the ringing phone.
The geneticist only nodded back at him, unnoticeable, his gaze stern and serious. Noah´s hand forgot about the phone and slowly, wandered to his holster.
"Where´s Sylar?" he asked.
"Close." the scientist informed him, his voice calm. "He waits for my call."
"To tell him what?"
"Your answer." Shawn replied on the geneticist´s behalf.
Noah frowned.
"To what?" Lassiter cried. "Spencer, what the hell is this? O´Hara, I can´t believe you´re in on this."
"You might wanna hear him out." was all she said.
"What do you want?" Noah asked. His phone had stopped ringing by now.
"We came to make you an offer." Mohinder told him. "We have something you need. Something the Company was after, since I can remember."
"And what is that?" Noah asked, out of curiosity.
Mohinder met his gaze, confidently. "Powers." he spoke. "We can offer you that. And knowledge."
Finally Noah understood where he was going with that. Of course he understood. "You must be kidding, right?" he countered. "You actually want me to hire you? To make you agents? Him? He´s a killer, Mohinder."
"Exactly." was all the other man would respond, simple and plain, nothing but an affirmation of a fact. As if that certain fact was totally normal. "And we offer you a chance to take him on the leash." he went on, stony faced. "I can control him, you know that."
"You could never control him, Mohinder. He only let you think that. He manipulated you. Just like he manipulates you now, to make you do this."
"What did he tell you?" Lassiter skipped into the talk, placing himself right next to Noah, demonstrating a strong line the two of them formed, against everything the geneticist could come up with. Because everything he would have to say, could only be ridiculous by nature.
Mohinder didn´t answer any of them. "The offer stands." was all he said. "It´s your decision."
"Where is he, Mohinder?" Noah tried to get through to this stubborn guy, to reason with him. "Help us catch him."
But Mohinder had already made up his mind, he could see that.
"It´s either that or he´s gone." he went on, ignoring Noah´s plead. "Out of your reach."
"We´ll find him." Lassiter promised, eyes narrowed.
"No, you won´t." Shawn cried, quickly, as if calling from the sideline of a playing field.
"Spencer."
Noah turned to the fake psychic, irritated, only for a second. He´d almost forgotten that the younger man was in the room with them. When he looked back at Mohinder, the scientist´s face was stoic.
"He´s right." he agreed with Shawn´s shout. "You won´t find him. And you won´t have any influence on what he´ll do out there. On the loose."
Noah just couldn´t believe what he heard. "How can you be a part of this, Mohinder?" he asked. "What did he do to you?"
"Why do you always think, Sy´s forcing people to care for him?" Shawn cried, throwing up his hands.
"Because it´s Sylar." Noah said, before Lassiter had a chance to give a response. He never let the scientist out of his eyes.
"For a change it was not him who did this to me." Mohinder declared. "So what´s your answer?"
Noah looked into those hard eyes of a man, he´d once considered to be compassionate. Reasonable. Now there was nothing reasonable in his eyes. Only a demand Noah would never be able to understand, no matter how many reasons Mohinder would list for him. But since he had no other choice but to listen – it was rather that or shoot him – he took a breath, at last.
"And what would you have me do?" he asked.
"Noah!" Lassiter cried in disbelieve, but the Company man raised a hand, to make him wait. At least for now.
"Consider our offer." Mohinder demanded. "Let us lay down our case."
"All right." Noah said. "Bring him here."
"No."
"You just said …"
"I said we want to lay down our case. But not to you. We want more people to have a say in this. People who´ll speak in favor of Sylar too, not just in yours."
"Who would that be?" Lassiter snorted, convinced that no one could be so stupid to speak for a killer like Sylar.
"Peter." Mohinder answered instantly, as if he´d only waited for a chance to drop names. "Hiro Nakamura."
"Us." Shawn added, indicating himself and Juliet.
Lassiter turned to his partner in disbelieve, but she only looked back at him, not batting an eye.
"I have a list." Mohinder informed Noah, in favor of telling him everything right here and now.
Noah was still unsure of what to think. This was certainly something he hadn´t expected. And he still couldn´t see the pattern behind this. Or the hidden agenda.
"All right." he said, at last. "So you actually ask me to put together a jury. To perform a court martial on him?"
"Us." Mohinder corrected. "Not just him."
Noah frowned, uncertain, and Mohinder nodded.
"This time." he spoke. "When you judge Sylar, you judge me too, Noah."
The gravity in his words seemed so genuine that it was like a punch in the face for Noah. All he could do was stare at him and shake his head.
"So you´re honestly ready to burn all the bridges behind you, is that so?" He didn´t get an answer. Only a stony face. "What happened to you, Mohinder?" he asked.
And for the first time, since the two of them had entered this room, Noah saw a change in the scientist´s face. Mohinder sighed, tired, maybe sad. He never broke eye contact.
"Far too much." he answered the question. "So what do you say?"
With that he held out his hands, his wrists, for Noah, startling not only the Company man.
"Dude." Shawn exclaimed. "Was that part of the plan too?"
Mohinder ignored him. His eyes were fixed on Noah. Eventually the Company man nodded.
"All right. Call him. Tell him to come here."
"Not before the jury is here."
Noah glared at the man before him. "Mohinder …"
"Don´t worry." Shawn blurted, interrupting his intimidating stare. "I already made some phone calls."
"What?"
But Shawn already held his phone to his ear and didn´t pay attention to him anymore.
"We´re ready, guys." he announced when someone answered his call. "Yep. Ready when you are."
"Wait." Lassiter demanded, planting himself in front of the psychic. "What the hell …?"
Right next to him a sound of rushing air made him flinch and a second later he looked into the smiling face of Hiro Nakamura, his friend Ando right by his side. The young Japanese performed a quick bow, greeting him, while Shawn walked to the door, knocking three times.
The next one to enter the room was no other than Peter Petrelli, looking around the room expectantly. The young orderly raised both brows at Noah.
"Do you want to call my mother, or shall I?" he asked.
Noah gritted his teeth, reluctantly accepting that he´d been set up from the start. Obviously he´d never really had a choice. But at least he didn´t seem to be the only one. Mohinder was still standing there, his wrists presented to him, waiting for Noah to cuff him. The Company man sighed.
"Remember." he said. "You wanted this."
He gave Lassiter a nod and the detective, only too eager to do this, got out his cuffs.
...
In this world, a world that spins so fast that we have merely the choice to fall or jump, maybe the only thing we actually control, is the choices that we make. Two choices that offer both, just this one way. Down into this pit that lies before us, in the dark. Deep. Uncertain. Merciless. And even if we chose to jump on our own, we wouldn´t know if we will ever rise again, back into the light. – How could we?
