Chapter 25- Saving Sylar
Mohinder stood with his hands on his hips, his curly dark hair dripping and plastered in an unruly mop on his head. He wore an expression of uncertainty and it was a sentiment Matt could appreciate. He too felt conflicted about his involvement. Did he really want to risk everything to help rescue Sylar- a man who was most undeserving of their efforts- but could he really live with the fact that he lay in his bed while a mile away and man died a slow and torturous death at the hands of Arthur Jessup? He didn't want to help Sylar in the slightest, but in the end it was a damned if he did, damned if he didn't situation, so he might as well go with Peter's plan- whatever that was.
"Mohinder." Peter greeted with a serious nod. "Are you feeling up to this?"
"No matter what I may be feeling, from what I hear Sylar is in far worse condition. I think it's best not to focus on me at the moment if you want to successfully retrieve him." The truth was, he was sore, but the excitement of the adventure made him forget about it and it felt good to be needed, even if he wasn't exactly sure how.
"I think our timing with the…" he glanced at West and decided against letting the cat out of the bag just yet, "…project couldn't have been better. We might need your skills. Matt, you've worked over there before. Do you have some idea of the layout of the property?"
"More or less." He shrugged. "If he's in the barn, we can approach from the backside through the woods. There's a clearing about 100 feet from there to the door we have to somehow cross without getting noticed."
"Luke can help you with that." West volunteered. "He and I can create a distraction or something to give you time to get him out. How long do you think you'll need?" He couldn't believe he just put himself directly into the line of fire, but he got caught up in the moment. There was no question that Claire would be upset if she knew what he did, but he hoped that she could forgive him someday.
Peter turned to look at Mohinder for a response. "How would I know?" He laughed. "I don't know anything about his circumstances. Is he simply laying on the ground, or is he suspended from the rafters in a steel cage? Details matter in situations such as these."
"He's hanging from cuffs attached to a chain above his head, but he's kneeling so it will be easy to reach them. If there's a key, I don't know where it would be." West provided.
Once more, Peter glanced at Mohinder. "It sounds relatively simple, but it's not as if I do this on a daily basis. I don't have a personal best event time." Peter raised his eyebrows for a better estimation. "Under two minutes?" Mohinder guessed exasperated.
"Then that's what we'll go with." Peter declared. "We'll approach from the woods and wait for West and Luke to clear the way. We get in, get Sylar loose, and get out as quickly as possible. Matt, you keep watch in the woods in case something happens."
"What do you want me to do?" He asked confused.
"I don't know. Whistle or something." Peter shrugged. "Just give us a heads up if there's trouble."
"How about whistling 'Psycho Killer', would that do it?" He mumbled under his breath and he and the others slogged through the woods towards the Jessup farm.
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Maria helped Ando hastily clear her stainless steel lab table in preparation for Gabriel's arrival. She tried to focus on the task at hand and not let her imagination run wild with what could be, but she fully trusted Peter's judgment. If he said it was going to be bad, then it was and she had to prepare herself for that. But she didn't know if bad meant scrapes and bruises or the equivalent of being mauled by a bear, and that's what had her on edge. Knowing Arthur Jessup as she did, she was inclined to think it was the latter.
Once the table was cleared, she disinfected it as well as she could with Lysol and scrubbed it until her arm was sore. It was plainly overkill, but she didn't want to take any chances on spreading infection and it gave her something to do while she waited helplessly. Ando watched her with a sad expression on his face. He too felt a little lost and suspected the worst, but he put on a brave face. "Maybe Peter's just being careful." He suggested.
She smiled tensely at him. "Let's hope so, Ando. Do you think that maybe you and Hiro could go through the house and gather any first aid supplies or anything that might be useful?"
"Of course." He nodded, grateful to have a task rather than just stand there waiting and he knew Hiro would feel the same.
After he went bounding up the steps, she sighed and fought back tears of anxiety and frustration. Why did Gabriel do this to her? Was he so unhappy that he thought taking his chances was better than staying? Didn't she give him everything he asked for, show him compassion, and try to protect him as best she could? Sure, she failed him on at least one account, but he didn't seem to directly hold it against her. Peter told her that he had his own reasons and it had nothing to do with her, but how could it not? She tried to provide a life of relative comfort for him, but it apparently wasn't enough and now things were as bad as they had ever been. Even if Peter and the others could bring him back, he would be far from safe. Eventually, Jessup would discover him missing and she would be his first suspect. With the chip, she couldn't hide him indefinitely since he would still show up on a scanner deactivated or otherwise. The penalty for stealing a slave was almost as harsh as it was for one running away, but she had no choice: she couldn't abandon him even though he placed them all in great peril.
She swallowed hard and pushed it all out of her mind while she rummaged through Peter's supply bag. Gauze, tape, syringes, flexible tubing, scissors, a few scalpels, a stethoscope, alcohol wipes, latex gloves, burn cream, a pen light, a mysterious digital device that was relatively small, a thermometer, a sealed bottle of saline, an epi pen, and vials of morphine, Benadryl, and various antibiotics were stuffed inside. She was grateful to her doctor friend for procuring the items for her, one by one to build a serviceable kit for Peter to use. It wasn't long until Hiro and Ando returned, carrying all manner of items from band-aids to rolls of paper towel to add to the arsenal. Together, they waited anxiously like doctors in a field hospital for the arriving casualty.
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Sylar drifted in and out of consciousness, but he was never fully lucid. At the best of times, he had only a dim awareness of his surroundings- enough to know that his situation hadn't changed: he was still hanging by his now numb arms, his body ached, and he still couldn't breathe. Every once in awhile, a horse would snort or the rain would fall harder and he heard it, but more often than not he was stuck in a hellish limbo state of semi-consciousness where he couldn't really tell if what he witnessed was real or all in his head.
His senses were betraying him. In turns he felt as though he had a fever and the next he was shivering with chills. The pain from his neck and gunshot wound would throb with intensity, but sometimes he didn't notice it at all. Sometimes he thought he heard voices whispering about him in the darkness and he didn't always remember where he was- all he knew was he was being held captive against his will and if he couldn't escape soon he could very well die there. Maybe he was dead, he didn't know.
During the times he emerged from the darkness of his subconscious, images and thoughts would swirl in a chaotic spiral in his head, but one theme tied them all together: the life he led could have been very different. Images of his life played in his mind's eye like a spliced film and it made him sick. The murders, the running, the overwhelming sense of loneliness and insignificance that he felt almost his entire life, knowing he'd been sold by his father for cash, witnessing his mother's death- both of them- every slight he'd experienced since his memory began was displayed for his review. The boys that pushed him down on the playground every day, the popular girl in high school that asked him to prom on a dare and then laughed at him while her friends watched, his mother's insistence that no matter what he did he could have done better, keeping his nose buried in books because his innate shyness complicated things. The list went on and on.
His life could have been so much different if he could have discovered his power much earlier. Maybe his father would have thought him worthy to carry his name, maybe his mother would have lived and she would have loved him for who he was and not what she wanted him to be. He could have pushed the playground bullies back. He would have asked the popular girl out because he would have been popular too. If he could have been Sylar rather than Gabriel, he wouldn't have felt worthless and unloved. Even if people didn't necessarily love Sylar, they feared and respected him and that was far more than Gabriel could ever hope for. He had a taste of the life he wanted, he would even say the one he deserved, but in the end he would die as lonely and unnoticed as Hiro said he would.
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West emerged from the woods covered in mud and leaf fragments as he took a quick look around and approached Luke, who was still chopping wood although it didn't look like he accomplished much in his absence. "Ok," he nodded in a hushed whisper, "I found Peter and he brought some help."
"About damn time!" Luke chided as he looked around for the rescue party. "I haven't been in there, but he's probably dead by now."
"Don't make it so obvious, jerk!" West hissed. "Have you seen Arthur or Emily?"
Luke shook his head as he swung the axe and the log split into two neat sections. "No. I know it's raining and all, but you would think they would at least check on us once in awhile to see that we're working."
"That's so weird." West agreed. "Help me keep an eye out while they get him." He motioned towards the woods and Luke watched while two men sprinted from the tree line and past him through the open barn door. He had never seen them before, but he wondered if only two people were enough.
Once their eyes adjusted to the relative darkness they found their way to Sylar, trying not to spook the horses along the way. "Oh my god." Mohinder breathed as he took in the sight before him. "What have they done?" He simply wasn't expecting him to be in such rough shape. Damaged, yes, but he was a bloody mess and it looked like he was on death's doorstep.
Peter's mouth was drawn into a tight line of concentration as he squatted in front of Sylar and gingerly felt his neck for a pulse. He found one, but it was weak. "Can you use your ability to get him free? We don't have much time." He said grimly. He noted the pallor of his skin and the unusually high warmth and it worried him. Given the number of open wounds and the less than sterile conditions he was being held in, infection was a definite possibility.
Mohinder immediately seized on the cuff surrounding Sylar's left wrist and just started to tug when West poked his head in and hissed, "Hide! Arthur's coming!"
Peter and Mohinder glanced at one another in panic and quickly scrambled up a nearby ladder to the hayloft above. They hid themselves in a pile of straw and watched as Arthur sauntered over to Sylar and gave him a hard slap on the side of the head. "Wake up, boy. This ain't no hotel." Sylar slowly lifted his head and tried to focus his hazy, dull eyes, but it took a great amount of effort. "Now look here. I don't want to kill you, 'cause as far as I'm concerned it would be a waste of money. I didn't want to do this, you understand. You did this to yourself, but it's not too late. Now, normally I don't cut deals with your kind, but you are a hard case to be sure and you look like you need a lifeline." He grabbed the pliers off the crate and smiled menacingly. "Save yourself the trouble, boy, and tell me something that will bring your bitch owner down. Give me something good and I promise I'll go easy on you."
Sylar may have had a little trouble comprehending the entire conversation, but he was with it enough to get that he had been given an ultimatum, and he was not a man who appreciated ultimatums unless he was the one giving them. Through the fogginess of his eyes, a spark of defiant fire flickered and a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Why should I lie when I know that you're going to torture me to death regardless?"
Arthur shook his head in amusement. "This will hurt you more than it will me, boy."
Mohinder let his head fall into the hay as Sylar screamed as much as his limited oxygen supply would allow. He simply couldn't watch the horror unfold. True, he used to relish in the sound of Sylar's cries when it was him stabbing him in the neck with a needle, but now he just felt guilty for having been so remorseless. Peter's hazel eyes narrowed as he clenched his jaw. The man was nearly dead as it was, what good did it do to continue to torture him? He could have said anything about Maria, including the truth, to save himself but he didn't and his weak, strangled cries were heartbreaking.
Outside, Luke nearly dropped his axe when he heard the god-awful growling coming from the barn. He wanted nothing more than to go charging in with his axe and take a swing at Arthur for being such a dick, but West grabbed his arm to stop him. "We have to be smart about this. We need a big disturbance."
"Like what?" Luke asked exasperated. "He's killing him in there!"
West looked at the sky above and smiled. "Accidents happen all the time." He motioned for Luke to follow him to the house where they sneaked in. The house was dark and creepy, but he knew exactly what he was doing and he was surprised that the juvenile hall junkie accompanying him didn't think of the same thing or better. In the kitchen, he found a bottle of Everclear in the refrigerator, a dish towel, and matches.
"Molotov cocktail?" Luke asked with an appreciative nod. "Tried and true."
"Kind of." West shrugged while he stuffed the towel down the neck of the bottle and tipped it upside down to let the alcohol soak into the cloth. "I'm going for lightning strike, but whatever works."
The pair ducked under the kitchen table when Emily breezed through. "She's kind of hot." Luke whispered with a slight smile.
"Shut up." West commanded after the coast was clear. He made his way back out the front door to avoid bumping into Emily again and lit the cloth. He heaved the bottle with all his might through an upstairs bedroom window and they watched as thick black smoke gave way to bright flame. West had never done anything so anti-establishment before and it felt kind of good to be honest. Luke, on the other hand, was a little more jaded, but even he couldn't hide his excitement.
They ran to the barn, feigning concern. "Sir! Sir!" They called banging on the barn door to be heard over Sylar's agonized whimpers. "Sir! Your house is on fire!"
Arthur ripped the door open and looked over to his engulfed home. All the rain in the world wasn't enough to put it out. "Don't just stand there!" He barked running past them to join Emily who had made it out and was standing in the side yard looking confused. "Get a garden hose or buckets! One of you call the fire department. Get to it!"
West ran into the barn to get a bucket, pausing for just a second to watch Sylar still convulsing slightly while fresh, red blood trailed from his neck and down his back. His stomach turned as he looked around. "Hurry!" He commanded. "Get him out of here!"
Peter and Mohinder appeared from their hiding place in the loft and hustled down the ladder. "Thanks." Peter nodded genuinely while Mohinder pulled apart the shackles that held Sylar captive with brute strength. West's eyes went wide, but Peter shot him a stern look. "You didn't see anything, kid. Got it?"
Sylar slumped forward right into Mohinder's arms and he scooped him up easily as though he were a child despite his tall frame. "We should go." He noted turning his attention to West. "Tell your friend Luke that we appreciate his help as well as yours. Perhaps at a later time, Maria can repay your kindness."
West nodded numbly. He didn't know if he did the right thing in helping free Sylar, but he was sure of one thing: Claire was right. Peter Petrelli was a man who could be trusted and Maria did have something special going on at her place, It looked as though she was doing more than just getting slaves to Canada if what he witnessed actually happened. Somehow, she was giving abilities back to slaves. He didn't know how it was possible, but he hoped that someday he could find out.