From Past to Present
Shawn tried to stop. He didn´t want to enter that room, but his mom just dragged him behind until they reached the couch.
"Sit." she demanded and when he sat, she asked him: "What happened? Don´t mince words."
"With dad?" he asked, grinning. "Mom, we were both there. You know. We don´t need to revisit the past."
"Maybe we do." she insisted.
"Well, I´m not sure if I wanna forgive him for what happened." Shawn said.
"The divorce?"
"It wasn´t what happened, mom. It was the way that it happened." Shawn exhaled, now feeling the anger again, not able to stop it from forming the words in his mouth. "I mean let´s call it what it was." he said leaning forward. "He left us. He left you. He ended up with the house and he left YOU by yourself to pick up the pieces. That´s not exactly what I call hero material, you know?"
She just sat there and looked at him with sad eyes. "Shawn." she said. "I left him."
For a moment he tried to, but he just couldn´t laugh at this. "Come on, mom." he said, rubbing his eyes. "You don´t have to spin this for me, okay?"
"Let me be clear." she said, getting up in deep thought. "Your father was wonderful to me." she told him. "He wanted to keep going to counseling. He kept saying we could make it, but the writing was on the wall a long time."
"You are losing me here, mom." Shawn said, really exhausted by now. "What are you …?"
"When I got that job out of town, it was an incredible opportunity." she explained. "I was afraid I would never have a chance again, so I took it. You went into your senior year. Your path was set. It seemed the right time if such a thing is possible. I thought, of all people, that you would be okay." She took his hand into hers. "I know I failed you …" she said. "But I think on that day my life began again."
Shawn looked down on her hands that lay over his, the hands of his mother, the hands that he knew since he was born. "And that´s why you left me?" he asked with a hoarse voice.
"No." she said. "No, Shawn. I left to give you the chance to be free. To make something out of your life, the way I made something of mine. So you could become what you were meant to be."
"And what is that?" he asked, barely able to keep his tears back. "What am I meant to be, mom?"
"Special, Shawn." she said. "I always knew you could be so special, that you could do anything you wanted with your gift."
"Do you have any idea what this did to me, when you left?" he shouted at her. "You wanted me to become something special? I bounced from job to job for four years. Look at me. I didn´t become a cop like dad wanted it, I didn´t become anything. I did´t even start a job training for anything. What the hell is so damn special about this?" he yelled at her.
She winced and withdrew her hands. For a moment she just stared at him, in shock. Then she got up and headed for the door, mumbling something about being sorry for bringing him in here. Shawn hurried after her, afraid he might lose her again if he would let her go now.
"No, Shawn, let me go." she cried when he tried to hold her back but he grabbed her arms and made her face him anyway.
"I´m sorry, mom." he said. "It´s just …" he sighed and tried to smile for her. "Maybe I don´t have to be special. That´s okay to be just the normal me. Can´t you just tell me that´s enough?" he almost begged. His heart was bleeding when he looked into her eyes, which were so full of love for him, her only son. She smiled at him, her hands folded in front of her mouth as if she was praying. At last she took his face into her hands.
"Why would I tell you that?" she asked him, still smiling this proud smile of hers. "When I know you could be so much more." He could only stare at her in disbelieve, while she stroke his head as if she had to wipe away a strand of hair. "If you wanted …" she said, absolutely convinced about what she was saying. "You could be President."
Shawn didn´t know what to say. Why? Why couldn´t she just let him go? Wasn´t it enough that he´d never been able to satisfy his father´s expectations? Did she have to do the same thing now? Didn´t she understand that it hurt him? That he couldn´t be what she wanted him to be? That he didn´t want to?
Tears were spilling down his cheeks but she only smiled at him. "It´s all right, Shawn." she said. "You can wake up now. Wake up."
He blinked confused. "Wake up." she said again, but this time it wasn´t her own voice that came out of her mouth. It was a male voice. A voice that he knew. But he needed to open his eyes to remember who this voice belonged to.
"Dr. Manny?" he asked, staring up at the ceiling of his therapist´s office.
"Yeah, it´s me, Shawn." the good doctor said. "Take your time, you were sleeping quite deeply."
Shawn took a breath and tried to readjust his mind to his surroundings. He was lying on a couch and Dr. Manny was sitting in a chair, right next to him.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked him now.
"I think so." Shawn answered and eased himself upright into a position that was closer to sitting. He still felt dizzy. That was the first time that he noticed that his face was wet. Quickly he wiped the tears away.
"You slept for exactly twenty minutes now." Dr. Manny told him. "Excellent. You fell asleep very quickly."
"Yeah, I … I´m very tired lately. I don´t know."
"Probably because of the lack of sleep your nightmares caused." Dr. Manny assumed.
"Yeah, probably." Shawn agreed.
"Now." the good doctor said. "You wanna tell me about your dream? Was it this Sylar again?"
Shawn took another breath and tried to remember. "No." he finally said. "No, it was my mom."
"Your mother. All right. But that can be important too. What was it about?"
Shawn shook his head. "That was weird." he said. "She … she told me I could be President." he chuckled.
"Why do you think she would say that?" Dr. Manny asked. "You ever thought about going into politics? Maybe when you were a child?"
"God, no." Shawn laughed. "I had only one goal when I was a kid. The only one my father would let me have. Becoming a cop."
"But that was not what you wanted to become." Dr. Manny assumed.
"No. I mean, yes. I … I don´t know. I always tried to be what he wanted me to be." he chuckled bitterly. "It just didn´t work out the way he wanted."
"Because you were not special enough." Dr. Manny nodded.
Shawn looked at him startled. "What did you just say?" he asked.
"You couldn´t fulfill your parents expectations because you were not as special as they wanted you to be." Dr. Manny explained. "But that´s okay, you see? No one is ever as special as their parents want them to be. That is just … not humanly possible. To be what your parents wanted you to be, you would have to be a hero. And you are no hero, Shawn. Accept it. Then you´ll feel better."
Shawn stared at Dr. Manny totally taken aback for a moment. "I never wanted to be a hero." he mumbled. "Did I?"
"What?" Dr. Manny asked. "What are you talking about?"
Shawn stared at Dr. Manny. Why was he not understanding? And why was he talking with an accent all the sudden? He didn´t even sound like Dr. Manny anymore. His friendly face became hard now. Darker.
"Wake up." he demanded harshly. "We need to refuel."
A door was opened and a cool breeze brushed over his face. Sylar opened his eyes and looked around. He was in the passenger seat of the car he´d busted at their last stop. There was a gas pump next to his window. Mohinder was just walking around the car. The gaze he threw him was aware and almost paranoid. If Sylar hadn´t felt so disoriented he could have enjoyed it. He watched Mohinder taking the delivery hose and start to fill the tank.
Sylar closed his eyes for a moment, to readjust his brain. Slowly these dreams were getting weirder … and more confusing. He got out of the car. Mohinder flinched at the sound of the door and watched closely, how he looked around.
"Where are we now?" Sylar asked casually.
"Near Chicago." Mohinder answered, still eying him warily.
Sylar nodded. "I need to use the bathroom." he then told him. "I´ll be right back." When Mohinder seemed hesitant, he added: "Or do you want to join me? In case you´re afraid I could try to run."
Mohinder gave him a face. "Hurry up." he said.
Sylar lay his hands together, in a mocking gesture of thank you. He even made a small bow before he left for the public toilets. Mohinder watched him go, not letting him out of his eyes until he was gone, around the corner. Watching. Careful. Could attack any time.
The delivery hose snapped out, when the tank was full, and the sudden sound of it, made Mohinder jump, as if someone had fired a gun at him. God. He needed to calm down.
He closed the nozzle and put the delivery hose back in its place, throwing another glance over his shoulder, to the corner where Sylar had vanished. Still no sign of him. Mohinder hesitated to take his eyes off that spot. But the driver behind him, honked his horn to chase him away from the pump, so he had no choice. He drove the car away and parked it.
On his way to the shop he glanced at the corner again. Sylar was still not coming back. It had only been a few minutes but Mohinder was already getting nervous. Would he really try to run? But even if. What then? He had accepted that possibility when he´d allowed him to leave the facility. If Sylar was gone, Mohinder would go on alone, just like planned.
He went into the shop and payed for the gas. Back at the car, he hesitated though, glancing once again at the corner. Should he even wait? Maybe it would be better if he´d just drive away. He would live much safer if he did, so much was for sure. But what about the rest of the population? Could he really afford it to let this murderer out of his sight? As long as he had him under his watch and the gun with the shots of Glycimerine in his pocket, he could keep him from harming anyone. Maybe he could even catch him and lock him away again, when the time was up. Maybe he could even kill him.
Mohinder hesitated. What was his alternative? To look over his shoulder again and again while he tried to fulfill his mission? As much as he mistrusted Sylar, as long as he knew where he was, he could focus on his other enemies. And there would be a lot of them. So he decided to at least try to see if he was still there.
He rounded the corner, noticing with an uncomfortable feeling that he was now out of public sight. Maybe that was the reason why Sylar had gone here in the first place. Did he expect him to come after him? He threw a checking glance over his shoulder, to see if he could reach the corner fast enough in case Sylar should attack him. When he turned back, somebody ran into him. Mohinder was about to apologize when he realized who it was.
"Dear god, Mohinder." the killer said. "You really are impatient." When Mohinder didn´t give a response, Sylar asked, smirking: "You were not afraid I could have left you, were you?"
The killer´d only walked a few steps, his back to Mohinder, when Mohinder´s hand shot to his pocket, where he´d stored his gun. It was empty.
He stared at Sylar´s back in shock and only a second later he spotted an iron bar, lying on a barrel. He grabbed it and immediately faced the muzzle of his own gun.
"You are really bad in concealing weapons, doctor." Sylar told him. "Throw the bar away. You could hurt someone with that."
Mohinder stared at Sylar, hatefully. Slowly he lowered the bar, dropping it to the ground.
"Good choice." Sylar praised.
Mohinder raised his hands and backed up, carefully inching closer to the wall. His eyes jumped from Sylar to the gun and back to Sylar.
"What are you gonna do?" he asked.
"Oh, I don´t know." Sylar said. "Why don´t you suggest something?"
Mohinder´d reached the wall, and reacted. He threw himself against it, shoulder first. The confused frown on Sylar´s forehead was immediately replaced by a grimace of pain, when the high and almost inaudible tone, came to life again, penetrating his brain. He went down to his knees, the way it had happened in the lab, his hand on his head.
Mohinder stepped away from the wall, and Sylar raised the gun. But Mohinder only needed to raise the intensity of the signal and Sylar cried out in pain. Eventually he dropped the gun, to grab his own head instead. Mohinder kept the signal going until he´d picked up the gun. Then he switched it off.
"Fortunately I´m much better in concealing remotes." he said and took the little device out of his pocket, hidden in the fabric of his jacket, right at the shoulder.
Sylar looked up at him, panting. When he saw what Mohinder´d done, he smiled and Mohinder felt rage rising in his chest again.
He pushed the button once more.
Again Sylar winced under the pain the signal caused him. Mohinder watched this for a few more seconds before he switched off. The killer was panting heavily.
Mohinder went down to cower before him, his thumb hovering over the button, ready to push it again if necessary.
"I should just put this on the highest level possible and let it keep going." he hissed at Sylar. "Until your nerves collapse. It would be a painful death."
"I´m sure it would be." Sylar looked up at him and Mohinder hurried to stand up, taking some steps back. But Sylar didn´t attempt to attack him.
"I really should do it." he mused, more to himself than to the killer. "That way I could make sure you´re no danger anymore."
"Yeah, but you won´t do it." Sylar replied.
"No?" Mohinder asked. "And why´s that?"
"Because you´re not a killer." Sylar said, matter of factly. "If you would be, you´d take that bar over there and really satisfy your longing for revenge. We both know it´s not physical strength that keeps you from it." Sylar saw the change in the scientist´s eyes and nodded. "You are not a killer, Mohinder." he repeated. "I am. And you need one to do what you plan to do."
Mohinder frowned. From all the things he´d expected Sylar to say in this moment, this was not on the list. Now this killer looked up at him, still breathing heavily, smiling this confident smile Mohinder despised so much about him. He nodded.
"Oh, yeah, you will need me." he emphasized. "You might not want to admit it, but you´ll need me."
"I can´t trust you." Mohinder said.
"No, you can´t. But if you want to survive, you´ll want me to be with you on this. You were right about one thing. I want to bring them down too. If you like it or not … we are on the same side."
Mohinder just stared at the murderer before him, in utter disbelieve. "Then why this ambush?" he demanded to know.
"Call it a checkout." Sylar replied. "Now we know where each of us stands." He attempted to move, waiting for Mohinder´s reaction. When the scientist didn´t do anything, he slowly stood up.
For a moment the two men just looked at each other, until Sylar broke the spell.
"Well, as far as I´m concerned, we could keep going now." he said. "If you´re ready that is."
Mohinder was still not sure what to think of this man. But on the other hand, did he have a choice? "If you ever try something like that again, I will kill you." he said.
Sylar studied his face for a moment, his smile still playing on his lips. "Wow." he said, as if honestly impressed. "I almost believed you."
Mohinder scowled and signaled with his gun for Sylar to move. The murderer raised his hands, as if he was afraid Mohinder could really shoot him if he didn´t obey. He turned his back on him, leading the way and Mohinder followed him, fighting all the curses that were in his head. Because he knew that Sylar was still smirking, even though he couldn´t see his face. When they reached the corner and stepped back into public view, he hid the gun in his pocket, not quite letting go of it. Yet.
Sylar waited for him to get in the car, before he opened his own door. Just like a good hostage was supposed to do it. It was really kind of amusing. Minus the agonizing pain this damn remote had caused him. Maybe he would find a way to get rid of that thing later.
He settled into his seat and watched Mohinder how he watched him. The scientist started the car. Eventually Sylar turned his head away from his driver, chuckling amused. This little stand off was over now. It had done its work.
Before they left the gas station, he noticed a man looking after them. It could be pure coincidence, just a random guy that looked after a random car leaving a random gas station. But he was living the life of a criminal far too long to take that chance.
"When we stop next time, we should get a new car." he informed Mohinder.
"What?"
"If we keep it too long they´ll recognize us because of it. When we stop next time, I´ll bust a new one and we´ll get rid of this."
"You must be out of your damn mind, Shawn. This is a company car. Are you dreaming again? Shawn. Wake up."
A hand touched his shoulder and shook him. Shawn opened his eyes and jumped up in his seat. His elbow collided with the door and sent pins and needles through his arm. He looked around and found himself in the blueberry, just where he belonged and right next to him, a confused frown on his best friend´s face.
...
"Are you all right?" Gus asked when he saw Shawn wince.
"Sure." Shawn groaned and massaged his elbow. "Just fell asleep for a moment."
"You were dreaming again, weren´t you?" Gus asked, now looking concerned.
"Yeah." Shawn admitted. "Was I … Was I talking?"
"You were."
"Wow. What was I saying?"
"You wanted to get rid of my car."
"Well." Shawn smirked hesitantly. "Maybe that´ll remain wishful dreaming."
"Shawn!"
Shawn just grinned and got out of the car. The conference center was on the other side of the street, big and pompose. Great location too. He could see the Golden Gate Bridge even from here. How must it look like when one was standing at a window up there? If Maria Takolov ever saw that view? They would find out. And when she was here, they would try to get her to confess the murder of her husband and his girlfriend right away. They would …
"Seriously, Shawn." Gus demanded and dragged him out of his thoughts. "What did you dream? This is starting to get serious."
"Dude, I know." Shawn agreed. "That was the weirdest dream I had so far. It started with me and my mom. But that turned out to be a dream in the dream. One that I had while being in therapy session with Dr. Manny."
"Your sports psychologist?"
"Yeah. And by the way, this part of the dream was definitely your fault."
"My fault?"
"Yeah. Because you talked about sending me to a shrinker."
"I only suggested that you should seek some professional advise, Shawn." Gus argued. "These dreams are getting worse."
"You´re right." Shawn admitted. "Especially this last part."
"There was more?"
"I was again …" Shawn was about to tell when he noticed a boy walking over to them. He was maybe seventeen or so and he was looking directly at Shawn.
"Excuse me." he addressed them politely. "Are you Shawn Spencer, the psychic detective from Santa Barbara?"
"Dude, we are famous." Shawn whispered at Gus. "Indeed I am." he told the boy, smiling proudly. "And this is my partner Chestnut Brown. At your service. Are there any keys I can find for you? Just kidding. That´s for the first graders in the psychic league. Usually I take on the really hard cases. That´s why I work with the police department."
"I know that." the boy said. "We studied your cases."
"We?" Gus asked.
"Dude, I have a fan club." was all Shawn could think of.
"I just wanted to ask …" the boy interrupted them, excited. "Are you really a psychic? I mean for real?"
Shawn raised his hand to his temple. "I am." he said, dramatically.
"That is so cool." the boy exclaimed. "I´m Kyle. I´m always looking for someone like you. That´s kinda … what I´m doing. Can I … Can I shake your hand?"
Shawn reached out his hand immediately, a generous smile on his lips despite his uncertainty about what this kid just talked about. The teen shook his hand with all the enthusiasm of a fanboy. But then suddenly his smile faded and he looked down on Shawn´s hand with an expression that could only be described as disappointment. Shawn and Gus exchanged an uncertain glance.
The boy glanced up at Shawn again, serious this time, the eager and childish glowing in his eyes was gone. When he seemed to have overcome his initial disappointment, he opened his mouth and told them: "You must be careful. There are men who´ll come after you."
"Wow." Shawn cried laughing. "That was pretty good for a start. But you need to do something like this …" he raised his hand to his temple again. "To be really convincing."
"I´m not joking." the boy said, absolutely serious. "You must be careful. They don´t know that you´re not psychic. They will come for you."
"I can assure you, I am really psychic." Shawn said chuckling.
The boy didn´t smile back. "No, you´re not." he said, matter of factly. "But that won´t save you from them. So please. Be careful."
With that he just walked away and left them standing there. The two of them looked after him, completely baffled. "What the hell was that supposed to mean?" Gus asked.
He looked at Shawn and the smile on his friend´s face had vanished too. "Dude." he said a contemplative expression on his face. "That was odd. That was almost like … what Sylar said to me."
"When you visited him in jail?"
"It was no jail. More like a sci-fi hospital, hidden inside of a government building. But yeah. He said I shouldn´t let them think that I´m really psychic … because they would …" he stopped, abruptly.
"What?" Gus asked.
"Jules."
"Jules?"
"We must go back to Santa Barbara." Shawn said and swirled back around to the car.
"Wait." Gus cried with a gesture at the conference center. "What about Maria Takolov? We came all the way here to find her."
"Forget about Maria." Shawn cried, already sitting behind the wheel. "This is about Jules. Now come on. Get in the car."
Gus felt infected by the urge in his friend´s voice and hurried over to the passenger side. He gave Shawn the keys and barely ten seconds later, they left the parking lot with squeaking tires and were on their way back to Santa Barbara.