Nothing but the truth

Sylar hated this. The coldness of the night after the hotness of the day. Such differences. It was always like that in the desert, he knew, had known it before he came here, but knowing these things were no real preparation and now that he was here, he was freezing. Damn, he was freezing since he got to this crappy old town. Hopefully he´d get moving soon.

He closed the door of his rental, halting for a moment, looking down on it. Why, he wondered. Why did it have to be a Nissan? A model so well known to him, it reminded him of a road trip many years ago. He still didn´t know why he chose to rent it anyway. He could have taken another one. But he didn´t. It didn´t make any sense.

Many things didn´t make sense lately. Not even his memories. Too many of them were confused, too many of them were never meant to be. Three years of memories more than his actual lifetime should be able to fill. Three years in which he lived another life.

The life of another man. A man he never was, never was supposed to be and never would have been if things had happened the way they were supposed to happen. But they didn´t. And now he had to deal with the aftermath. So much of it. Maybe more than he would ever be able to take.

God, he hated this. He didn´t even know who he was anymore. Who he was supposed to be. Who people wanted him to be. A killer? That´s what he´d been most of the time. And it definitely seemed to be the thing people saw in him. As if they wanted it to be like that, as if that was what they needed. For him to be the monster to their knights in shining amour. Because who would recognize a hero if there was no villain for him to fight all the time, right?

Was that it? Was he serving a purpose by being this monster that he was? Was he only playing a role in this universal chess game, that simply needed a villain, no matter what the cost? And if he was, if that was really his purpose, was there even any sense in trying to resist?

Sylar breathed in through his nose, feeling the cold night air clear his mind, and finally stepped away from the car, over to the door of the gas station, to pay for his gas. The guy behind the cash register gave him a strange look, when he counted the money. As if he expected him to pull a gun on him any second.

But Sylar didn´t intent to play games around here. He wasn´t even in the mood to creep this guy out just for fun. He just wanted to get done and back to his crappy motel, so he could start off early in the morning. He spent too much time in this town already, had done too much thinking. It was time to keep moving, to finally get to his target, the reason why he came here in the first place.

"Just a minute, sir." the cashier told him. "I need to get some change from the back."

Sylar considered to wait, for two seconds.

"You know what, never mind." he said, already turning around.

To hell with the change. He just wanted to go. His nerves were blank and he needed sleep, really badly, even though he knew it wouldn´t change much about his tiredness. But staying on his feet for much longer than necessary, would not improve his mood either.

When he turned around, someone new walked in to the station. A face that was even less helpful to improve his mood.

The boy stood in the door, blocking it, not by coincidence and smiles, cockily. Got ya, asshole, this smile said. From behind a shelf with candy bars, his buddy emerged.

Sylar would have heard him come in, if he´d entered after him. Since he didn´t, the boy must have been in here all the time. And that also explained the strange look the cashier had given him earlier. Sylar sighed, fighting back the urge to moan in agony, about the fact that he couldn´t seem to catch a break, not even now.

"Thought you got away, pal?" the kid in the door asked and Sylar glared at him.

"No. I thought you did." He started moving, for the door in the boy´s back. "You still have the chance though." he told him and stopped, halfway to him. "If I were, you I´d take it."

But the boy didn´t want to take that offered chance, and kept blocking his way, as if he didn´t know that he was playing with fire. He probably really didn´t. And Sylar considered to show him, to teach this unknowing kid, what fire really is. But instead he just glared at the boy before him, hoping that the memory of their last encounter, would be enough to scare him out of his way. Usually being thrown through the air by an unseen force, shuts a big mouth like his pretty good. But this dude seemed to have the urge to prove that he had the biggest one in the county. Because he didn´t intent to be reasonable.

Sylar shot a glare at his pal, next to the candy shelf, and this guy did flinch, the way he was supposed to. So it wasn´t Sylar. It was the idiot before him.

"Listen." he told him, trying to stay calm. "Under different circumstances, I´d really love to turn your insides out. But today … it´s just bad. So if you´ll excuse me."

"I don´t think I´ll excuse anything you did." the boy retorted and Sylar lost his patience.

Just as he was about to raise his hand, to move the guy out of his way, and maybe break the one or the other bone in the process as a gentle reminder, the guy addressed his friend behind the cash register.

"Mikey." he demanded and then, on command, all the lights went out, leaving Sylar blind in this unexpected darkness.

He could hear the footsteps closing in on him, quickly. And then the boy was at him and something sharp hit him in the stomach. A hand grabbed his arm, confidently moving it away so the way will be free for the knife, to stab several more times.

Sylar choked, stumbling back in surprise. That was impossible. The boy couldn´t have seen him, not in that darkness, to get him this accurately. He should have seen bright spots before his eyes, the way Sylar still did. But he was at him in seconds after it went dark, grabbed his arm without having to feel for it. And that could only mean one thing.

The lights went back on, when Sylar was sitting on the ground, bleeding. He looked up. The boy stood over him, looking down on him with a smile. And Sylar saw his eyes. Everybody was squinting when the lights came back on, including him. But not the boy. His eyes were wide open, and he didn´t even blink, didn´t even seem to notice the difference. He wasn´t blind, Sylar knew that. No, this was something entirely different.

"You." he breathed, amazed by that discovery.

"Tried to warn you, pal." the boy cooed, still way too confident. "But you just wanted to know …"

That was the moment when Sylar got up from the ground, not like someone that had received a good dozen stabs in his guts, but like someone that was ready to attack. It was the moment, when the guy´s smile faded away at last. Sylar shook his head, smiling.

"Well, well." he said. "If that isn´t a coincidence."

...

There was a moment of silence between them, when Sylar hesitated.

"So they attacked you." Mohinder summarized what he´d heard so far. "And then what? You killed the boy in self defense?"

"That was almost a week ago." Sylar revealed. "No one died in that night."

Mohinder frowned, shaking his head, confused. "What …?"

"Someone disturbed the little … argument we had." Sylar explained. "A deputy. And I decided it was better to just leave. You know, live and let die." he halted, reconsidering his words. "Metaphorically."

Mohinder sighed, rubbing his eyes. "So how did the boy die?" he asked.

"It all went down right after I called you …"

...

Sylar listened, to the man on the other end of the line, his eyes closed. It wasn´t that he was surprised that Mohinder had called the cops on him. But the fact that he´d done it in the first place … it just hurt. After all this time, it did. He´d called to apologize after all.

"What was I supposed to do?" Mohinder now asked him, defending his actions. "You hardly could have expected me to do anything differently."

Sylar sighed. "No." he admitted. "I guess not."

He heard a sound in the line, similar to his own. "Tell me where you are." Mohinder asked but Sylar couldn´t. Not yet.

"You would only send people after me." he said, rightfully. "Don´t worry. I don´t plan to kill anyone."

"I can´t believe that and you know that." was all Mohinder would say and Sylar closed his eyes, again, gritting his teeth.

"I know." he said. And then: "Goodbye, Mohinder."

"No, wait. Sylar? Sylar!"

But Sylar hung up. There was no sense in keeping this up. He´d wanted to apologize and he´d done that. Nothing more to say. Not yet.

He turned around, away from the phone booth, to walk back to his car. But someone was standing in his way.

"You." he rasped, feeling the anger rise in his chest.

"Now it´s payback time, pal." the stupid kid announced, while his two friends showed up left and right of Sylar, like in a classical ambush.

Sylar glared at them. "You really should go home to your mothers." he advised them. "You have no idea what you´re getting yourselves into. No. Idea."

"I think, I know that better than you do." the boy replied, and pulled a switchblade. "This is our town."

"I didn´t see a name tag on you, reading the word mayor."

"You just keep being a smartass. But even you can´t take down three of us."

At this Sylar just couldn´t help but smiled. "You think so, Thirty Cent?"

"Now!" the boy ordered and then Sylar got attacked, from both sides the same time.

He reached out a hand, throwing one of the kids back instantly. The second one, stopped just before he reached him and when Sylar´s eyes found him, he skipped back, scared to death.

"Get him!" his "boss" ordered, angry about how unreliable his friends were.

"But Greg …" the boy cried.

"Do it, Rickie!"

Sylar watched the kid hesitate but eventually he decided, that he was more scared of his friend Greg than he was of that stranger, that Sylar was to him. That would change soon though. Sylar reached out his hand.

Ricky saw it coming and when the telekinetic blow hit him, he was already trying to dodge sideways. He flew and astoundingly, managed it to land relatively well, in the corner. Sylar chuckled amused. Well done, kiddo. Not too bad.

The sound of a switchblade snapping out, made him turn back to Greg. The boy looked furious, be it about the incompetence of his friends or the fact that Sylar was still not even batting an eye was unclear. But his next intention was. He yelled, lunging forward.

Sylar was about to TK him away, when someone jumped at him from behind, trying to choke him. It all happened so fast, he had no time to react, until he felt the warm liquid running down his neck. But the blood was not his own.

The arm around his throat loosened at once and the boy in his back started choking. His hand clung to his throat and to the knife that was sticking out of the side of his neck. Sylar watched him stumble backwards, until his back hit the wall and he sank down. Then he remembered Greg.

Sylar raised his hand and pushed him off his feet, to the ground. Idiot.

The third boy rushed to his injured friend, gasping frantically, panicking. The blood was still flooding out of his neck, far too quickly.

"Greg!" the boy shouted, almost crying. "Dammit, dude, do something."

Greg went to them, his eyes never leaving Sylar.

"You should see to get him to a hospital." Sylar said at last. "If you´re quick, he might make it. Forget about me. It´s not worth it."

Greg glared at him, and Sylar could see clearly how much those words had challenged him once again. In a quick move, he grabbed the handle of his knife and actually pulled it out of his friend´s neck, to attack again. Sylar was so startled, he almost forgot to raise his hand and throw him back. Almost.

While Greg was groaning about the bruises he´d get the next day, his friend choked on his own blood, dying of the wound Greg had caused him. Sylar watched the second boy freaking out about what had just happened. He could barely believe it himself. What the heck was wrong with these kids?

He stared at Greg, who was lying on the ground, glaring at him hatefully, and had to restrain himself from reaching out his hand again, for more than just a blow. Eventually he turned around and just left, quickly, before things got even more out of control. One dead boy was already enough.

...

He halted in his speech, to look at the man before him, estimating his reaction. But Mohinder didn´t react. Yet. He didn´t say anything, not one word, just looked back at him. As if taking his time to decide what he wanted to think altogether, the uncertainty so obvious in his eyes.

"I decided to drive out here." Sylar went on. "To finally do what I came for."

"Which was?"

For a long moment Sylar didn´t respond, only held that waiting stare.

"What do you think it was?" he asked, eventually. "No, don´t say it. Just let me finish."

And once again, Mohinder just waited, listening to what would come next. Sylar took a breath.

"I came here to find Alice." he revealed, at last. "Not to kill her. You told me about her. And after you … invited me to leave …"

"I didn´t invite you to leave." Mohinder interrupted him, almost fiercely. "I just said, I couldn´t let you do what you wanted to do."

"You had no idea what I wanted to do." Sylar cried, defensively.

"You said yourself that you couldn´t guarantee for anything." was the retort. "So don´t blame me for how things went down. To run away was your idea."

Sylar didn´t give another response, just gritted his teeth, trying not to shout again.

"As I said." he forced the words out. "I wanted to find Alice. To talk to her. To maybe find a way to help her."

Mohinder raised an eyebrow at him. "So you´re a humanitarian now? Very convenient."

"I wanted to prove something."

"And what was that?"

"That I could still do it. That I could still do the right thing, control my hunger. Even without you."

A surprised frown appeared on Mohinder´s forehead.

"Only that I didn´t even get to Coyote Sands." Sylar went on. "These two … boys, caught up with me. At that ravine, they literally forced me into a standoff." He snorted, recalling it. "Like you know it from a movie. Two cars, heading for each other, daring the other one to avoid first."

"Did you do it?"

"Of course not. I hit the breaks as soon as I realized what he was doing. Tried to stop him with telekinesis but that car is just … heavy. Did you ever try to stop a truck that runs full speed?"

...

He could almost feel it, as if he´d touched the hood of the Dodge with his palm. A pressure that came from that fast approaching vehicle, heavy and sudden. And even though he managed to slow the damn thing down, it still crashed into his own hood, shoving his rental backwards violently. The glass shattered and pierced into his skin, his head got thrown onto the steering wheel and he was pretty sure he heard something snap in the back of his neck, which was probably the reason why he felt so dizzy all the sudden.

It did´t last long, but it was enough for them to get out of their car and to his side, without him noticing. When he moved his head to glare at them, Rickie skipped back in pure shock. Greg on the other hand didn´t. Instead he reached for the grenade belt of his friend – he looked so ridiculous with it – and pulled one of them out. Before Sylar even knew what was happening, the thing went flying at him.

He had no idea how he managed it to get out of the car before it went up in flames, but his instincts must have kicked in just in time, to let him end up on the ground instead of in a burning car.

Another grenade went flying at him, but this time Sylar deflected it, sending it away to explode at a rock instead of his face. The two boys flinched and took cover.

When Greg´s glare met Sylar´s again, he was fuming. Within a heartbeat he was back in his car, the motor roaring. And if Sylar had needed only one more second to realize what he was up to, he would have stared into the headlights like a deer until he ran him over.

But he didn´t need that second anymore. He reached out his hand before the car even started moving, and this time his shove was faster than the horsepower of the truck.

Sylar could see Greg´s face, surprised and royally pissed off, only for a second before he shoved the Dodge to the side and it slipped over the edge of the ravine. For a moment it was sliding, and then Sylar heard a crash. The Dodge stopped sliding. It was stuck.

"Greeeeeg!" Richie shouted and ran for the ravine. Halfway there his eyes met Sylar´s and he stopped dead in his tracks. Five seconds of stare were enough to send him swirling around and running away in the other direction.

Sylar looked after him, until he vanished behind a rock, and set off the ground, to land on said rock. He couldn´t spot Ricky anymore though. Beneath him the cracking sounds of the burning car mixed with the roaring of the Dodge´s motor. Greg was trying to rear back up the slope. Unsuccessfully. The car was stuck on a rock. A small one. It would withstand a while but not much longer if Sylar would help it a little. Just one tiny shove with his mind and that truck would rumble down the ravine for good.

He raised his hand, aiming for that truck, with its spinning wheels and whining motor. So helpless and at his mercy. Right now he had the life of this boy in the palm of his hand. A boy with a very tempting ability, one that he certainly didn´t deserve.

And then Sylar realized what he was doing, what he was feeling, coming up from deep inside of him, from a place he´d tried to forget once. A darkness that he´d promised to fight, not to indulge.

Again the motor was whining loudly, the wheels spinning unsuccessfully in the dirt.

Sylar threw a glance at his burning car. Useless. It was destroyed beyond repair and wouldn´t bring him anywhere. But he had to go. Before he lost it. This boy was just too tempting to not to kill him. Too easy to kill if Sylar really wanted it. And he wanted. Badly.

So he tore his eyes away from the Dodge and took off the ground as fast as he could, flying away from that place, before he could change his mind again.

...

Mohinder regarded him in silent contemplation, estimating. "You didn´t see that there was a car heading for you?" he asked.

Sylar needed a moment to understand the meaning of this question. "You were there?"

Mohinder made a face, as if unsure if he could believe this reaction to be true. But he didn´t say anything.

"What did you do next?" he then asked. "How did you get to the mountain?"

"First I flew here." Sylar told him, rolling his eyes around to indicated the barrack, the camp. "To get my thoughts back in order. To … calm down. I figured that when they found me, it was just a matter of time before they´d run into Alice." He ignored the raised brows of the scientist. "I didn´t want to find out what would happen then." he said. "After what you told me about her."

...

It was the reasonable thing to head for the mountains first. He had no idea where else to start and from up there he might be able to see something. Maybe she really was there. Didn´t people always hide in the mountains when they didn´t want to be found?

He landed on a high spot, almost at the top of the mountain, and looked around. The day was cast over, unusual for the desert. It didn´t change the heat but the light over the plain was dark and depressing. A fact that made the heat feel even worse, oppressive. A few more hours he guessed, before the sun would set, to let night take over the land. And the cold with it.

He sighed. Maybe he should head back to the town, to the motel he´d stayed in. Without even a car, he wouldn´t last long out here. The cold of the nights was bad in town but it would be devastating out here. And the way things looked he wouldn´t find Alice Shaw any time soon.

Let´s face it, friend. Your plan got screwed. Royally screwed. Why do you still keep going through with it? It´s over. Just go home.

But that was exactly the point wasn´t it? To what home? He didn´t have one. Not anymore. He was out here, on his own, and it was more than symbolic that his first target had been a desert like this. Empty and dead. A real hell right here on earth. Only that there was no fire here that could clean his soul from his sins. Only the heat of the burning sun. A sun that was now hidden behind thick gray clouds, as if the sky tried to mirror his frustration.

Sylar frowned, looking at this sky. It was really weird, wasn´t it? A weather like this? Those clouds hadn´t been there a few hours ago. It was unusual enough to see the sky over a desert cast over but that fast?

Alice.

That´s what she did, wasn´t it? Controlling the weather? She must have done this. And that meant she must be close. Maybe close enough to still find her. Sylar felt his heart beating faster in anticipation. And that was the moment when he saw the dust trail, heading for the mountain.

A car. A big one. And a second one following right behind. He just couldn´t believe it. These two idiots weren´t just chasing after him, ignoring all reasonable behavior, they´d also brought reinforcement.

"So now it´s getting ridiculous." he murmured to himself.

But if it was the way they wanted it, so be it. He was sick of turning away and run as if he was afraid of them. Greg probably still though he could get the better of him, encouraged by Sylar´s self discipline that he´d managed so far. But that was over now. If that kid refused to learn the right lesson on his own, Sylar would gladly teach it to him. It was about time anyway. No more remorse. He practically asked him to get killed, so why should he refuse that wish?

...

"And that´s when you decided to kill them." Mohinder interrupted the speech.

Sylar halted, hesitantly. "Maybe. I hadn´t decided."

"To me it sounds as if you decided."

"But I hadn´t. Okay? I just wanted them off my case. What would you have done?"

"So you´re truly just the misunderstood party in all of this, aren´t you?"

Sylar could only stare at him, totally taken aback. "You really don´t want to believe me, do you?" he asked.

"I used to believe you far too easily over the years." Mohinder retorted. "Allow me to have my doubts."

"Why should I lie about what happened?"

"Why?" Mohinder coughed out a laugh. "Why! Are you serious? Because you´re you."

"I´m not a liar."

"No. You´re a killer. You might believe that you can fight it. But you are too easily deceived by your own imagination. And you deceive other people just the same, maybe without even realizing it, convincing them about the same delusion you make up for yourself. Because that´s the only way, you can have a relationship with anyone. It was that way with my father and it was that way with everybody you were convinced to be close to over the years. Peter, Angela Petrelli, Claire … Juliet. You kept telling yourself stories over stories, about a better life, about a special purpose, fate that had called you. Nothing of this was real. You …"

"Are you so different then?" Sylar burst out at last, shouting in the doctor´s face. "Look at yourself and tell me that you see the world totally realistic, without clouded judgment."

He looked into the shocked face before him and had to laugh, bitterly.

"Poor Mohinder." he spoke. "Always carrying the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. Don´t you? Tell me you don´t believe you are responsible for everyone that lives. Tell me you don´t think you have to save them all, preferably from me. As if you were the only one who actually could save the world from this monster. Tell me you don´t think that. Because that´s the reason why you let Bennet assign you with watching me. That´s why you came back to America in the first place when he called you for help. Because you thought no one else could do this. And this is the reason why you´re here now. Because you think you have to save the world … from me. Am I right?"

He gave Mohinder time to answer his question. And it was obvious that he needed that time, to get over the shock.

"Yes." he managed at last, flabbergasted by what he´d heard.

Sylar exhaled, finally releasing the tension and nodded. "Yes." he repeated.

It wasn´t that he hadn´t known he was right. But hearing it from Mohinder himself, admitting it at last …

"Well." he said, dismissively. "I have news for you. You´re not the center of the universe, doctor."

And with that he just left, out of the door, because he couldn´t stand to be in that barrack any longer. With him. He needed some fresh Mohinder-free air to clear his mind, and the anger in his head. But of course the doctor would not give him that. Only a second after Sylar´d left, he heard him follow and a moment later his arm was grabbed and pulled back, stopping him.

"Where are you going?" Mohinder demanded to know.

Sylar glared at him, warningly. "I´m taking a walk." he said. "Doctor."

He yanked his arm away, to make a point. And for a moment it seemed that his message had been understood. And then there was the sound of a motor, one that sounded only too familiar by now.

The two of them turned around, to see the Dodge appearing at the corner of the farthest barrack. It was driving slowly, almost sneaky, until the boy behind the steering wheel saw them.

Sylar reached out a hand, the moment the tires started squeaking, and shoved the Dodge aside, a smile playing on his lips. His shove sent the car spinning, spitting sand. The window of the drivers side was open. Good. Sylar prepared himself. And then Mohinder grabbed his arm and forced it down.

"Stop it." he demanded.

Sylar could only stare in disbelieve. "You heard any of what I told you earlier?" he cried.

"You claim that you can fight it." the scientist recalled. "Then prove it."

Sylar shook his head, irritated. He hadn´t realized it until this very second. But now he saw it. Again. What he´d been about to do, what he´d wanted to do. God, was it already that bad? He looked into the dark eyes of the man before him, accusing, warning, understanding, all at once. And from the other side he heard a door getting opened.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the movement, when Greg wound up and threw something. Sylar had only enough time to swirl around.

The grenade exploded barely ten feet away from them, the shock wave still strong enough to blow them off their feet. And for the next ten seconds, Sylar could not see anything but flying dirt and flames.