Okay so I lied. This is not the last chapter, but I thought it was a good place to pause since I'm trying to keep all the chapters around 2000 words. So anyway, I hope you enjoy and thank you for staying with me; this has turned out to be a longer story than I expected but I'm having such a good time writting it it's hard to stop. And as always, reviews are oh so welcomed! :-)
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes :'(
"Since when does the Big Bad Serial Killer keep a diary?" Bennett remarked with his usual condescending laugh.
They were on their way back to Primatech with their latest 'mission' handcuffed and knocked out in the backseat. Most of the day had been spent tediously tracking the man (a firestarter), who'd been wreaking havoc on the city of Philadelphia. You'd think that a man leaving raging fires in his wake would be easy to find, but he had been surprisingly illusive.
They'd been driving in silence most of the way, Noah enjoying the scenery of turning leaves against a backdrop of fading sunlight. Once they were back in the city traffic he had glanced over at Sylar, noticing him scribbling furiously by the dim glow of headlights and the last remnants of the sun. Sylar quickly slammed the small leather book in his hands shut, sliding it down between his right leg and the passenger door. He shifted uncomfortably and turned his gaze to the trunk of the car in front of them, trying to keep his expression completely locked in a deep scowl.
That didn't deserve a reply.
"You'll ruin your eyes like that, you know."
Sylar responded with an inaudible grumble.
"Hey, I'm just trying to help. I know how troublesome glasses can be." He was starting to enjoy himself now.
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." He replied sarcastically. He was hoping that a retort would shut him up since the silent treatment obviously wasn't working.
"So how's your shrink working out? Do you and Suresh look over inkblots and discuss which parts of the brain they look like? Or do you spend the whole time talking about mommy dearest?" Bennett laughed at the thought of it.
He'd had enough of this. Sylar was already agitated (and a bit queasy) from the stop and start of the traffic and now Bennett was pushing that agitation to downright fury at his comments. He had no right to talk about any of that. He wanted to throw him against the side of the car and remind him who he was talking to, but he restrained himself.
"What, no answer? I understand; therapy can be an emotional thing. I wouldn't want you to start crying."
Now he really wanted to hurt him. He clenched his fists so tight that his nails were digging into the palm of his hands but he didn't care.
Calm down. You can't kill him. Mohinder would never forgive you. You're almost back to Primatech, just breath.
Sylar took a deep breath and opened his door; luckily the car was stopped at the time. He welcomed the rush of cold air as got out, slamming the door behind him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Bennett yelled. He tried to reach for the door but realized that he couldn't move his hands; or his entire upper body for that matter. "You can't do this Sylar!"
Sylar wasn't listening. He had no idea where he was going but he knew he had to get as far away from Noah as possible before he killed him. He'd used his telekinesis to immobilize him and make sure all of the doors were firmly held shut. By the time he was he was out of range it would be too late for Bennett to follow him. He would have to choose between wandering around the streets of New York City at night looking for him and leaving the firestarter where he was or finishing their assignment and then assembling a search party. As much as Sylar knew that nothing would give Noah Bennett more joy than to have an actual excuse to kill him, which he had provide, he also knew that there was no way he'd risk loosing their captive and incurring the wrath of Angela Petrelli.
So he was safe and free, for a brief time at least, and he could only think of one place he wanted to go.
Sylar's stomach was knotted with nerves as he knocked on Mohinder's door, deciding not to go with his usual approach of barging in or sneaking in, seeing as that would most likely end up scaring the doctor, and that wasn't the reaction he was aiming for.
He heard the clink of a chain sliding back and a deadbolt being turned and then Mohinder was there. Standing right in front of him, shirtless and holding a towel in his hand, looking a bit bewildered at Sylar presence in his doorway.
Oh God. Sylar swallowed hard. He just got out of the shower.
Mohinder looked so good standing there. His dark curls falling haphazardly around his face, still slightly damp; his muscles glistening, skin still flush from the hot water.
"What are you doing here? Does Bennett know where you are?" Sylar was mesmerized by his accent; so beautiful, so concerned. He wanted to touch him, to pull him close and never let go; wanted to run his fingers through that gorgeous mane and kiss every inch of that fit, caramel colored body.
"Sylar?" Mohinder's voice pulled his mind back to the situation at hand.
"Hmm? Oh, Iā¦" He hadn't thought past Mohinder opening the door and his brain wouldn't focus on anything other than the bare chest in front of him. "Here." He suddenly remembered what he was holding in his hand and he shoved it at Mohinder as he walked past him, without invitation, into the apartment he knew so well.
"You've been writing." He flipped through the journal that was now almost full of messy scribbles.
"Yes." Sylar said, making himself comfortable on the couch.
"You know you could've waited until tomorrow to give me this." Mohinder stated as he shut the door, utterly confused.
"I know, but I didn't want to." He was starting to regain his confidence now that the shirtless doctor was out of eye shot.
Mohinder walked around the other side of the couch and sat down next to him, unsure of where this was leading, or where he hoped it was leading.
"Is that the only reason you came by? To show me you've finished your assignment?"
"No."
He waited for Sylar to say something else, to no avail. He cleared his throat; thinking of something to say to cut the tension that was building as the silence dragged on.
"You didn't answer me earlier; does Bennett know you're here?" Sylar shifted uncomfortably under his stern gaze and he was suddenly struck by how attractive awkward looked on the reforming killer. He blushed and thanked the universe that mind reading was not on the list of abilities that Sylar had acquired over the years.
"Of course he does." He lied.
"So how did you get away from him without being shot or followed?" Mohinder inquired, completely ignoring Sylar's reply.
"I told you, he knows I'm here. Besides, shooting me wouldn't do any good, I would just heal." He retorted indignantly.
"Not after Bennett shot you, you wouldn't. And don't lie to me; I thought we were past that." Mohinder made sure to play up this last part, looking and sounding hurt and dejected. Sylar looked as if the geneticist had slapped him across the face.
"I'm sorry." He blurted out remorsefully before he could catch himself. He hadn't meant to hurt Mohinder. He hadn't meant to lie to him; he just didn't want to have to leave now that he'd finally gotten the chance to be here. He didn't want Noah to be called, it would ruin the moment.
Mohinder stood up as if to go over to the phone. Sylar reached out and grasped his wrist tightly, looking up into his deep, caring eyes. "Don't call them. Please." It was part whisper part whimper and Mohinder couldn't resist it.
"I won't."
Then, with perfect timing, the phone rang, making them both jump and Sylar release his grip.
Mohinder grabbed the phone off the table and answered it.
"Hello?" He took a deep breath.
"Yes, he's with me."
Sylar looked at him nervously and was reassured by a soft smile.
"No it's fine. I told him too. It's an exercise, part of his recovery." His mind was racing trying to come up with a viable reason that Sylar would be at his house without notice in the middle of the night.
"Yes, I know it's late. I wasn't expecting the mission to take so long."
Nervousness turned into awe as Sylar listened to Mohinder lie for him.
"As long as it takes," he looked Sylar up and down, soft smile turning to wicked grin, "He'll be returned as soon as I'm done with him. - Yes ā I understand. I'll be sure to let you know the next time I schedule a fieldtrip, but this is really very important to his recovery so I'm going to have to insist he stays. ā Yes, I will. Good night." He sat the phone back down on the table and was immediately reminded of his dream as Sylar stood up and walked over to him. He took a deep breath and tried to muster up the courage to enact the scene that was playing out in his mind.
"Sylar." He murmured, reaching up to caress his soft, pale cheek; his thumb running over those warm lips. He could feel Sylar shudder under his touch and his heart beginning to race.
"Don't." Sylar closed his eyes, not sure whether he wanted to finish the statement, unsure of what the beautiful creature standing in front of him might think, but he knew he had to; even if it did make him sound crazy. "Don't call me that. Please. I don't want to be him anymore. I don't need him anymore." His words were scarcely audible but Mohinder heard every one of them. He tilted Sylar's head and moved closer, so that their lips were barely an inch apart, pausing to whisper "Gabriel" before their mouths collided.
