"I already helped you once. When have you ever helped me?"

Doyle stared at Claire as he tried to think of an answer.

"You never have. I gave you a new identity and what did you do with it? Nothing. No, you joined a carnival. A carnival with a leader who buries whole towns under the ground when he doesn't get what he wants." Claire couldn't help but snap at Doyle. What made him think that she would help him?

"Claire…" Gretchen began, "just hear him out."

"No. Why should I? Gretchen, you have no idea what he's done to me."

"Why? What did he do to you?"

"He made me almost kill my mom and then he made my other mom kill me."

"Oh… Yeah, that's really sick."

"Okay, so can I please get back to being pissed at him again?"

"Ladies…" Doyle started. "Don't start fighting on my behalf."

Claire sighed. "How did you even get here, Doyle?"

"Oh, that. Getting past security was easy. I just told them to let me through or else I was gonna make them take their guns," he made Claire and Gretchen hold their hands in a gun shape, "make them point it at their heads," he made Claire and Gretchen point their gun shaped hands at their heads, "and pull the trigger."

"So, where are they now?" Claire asked, hoping that 'pulling the trigger' never happened.

Doyle gave the girls the control over their bodies back. "I don't know. Probably calling back-up."

"That's so cool," Gretchen said suddenly. "Are you like a puppet master, or something?"

Doyle smiled, clearly appreciating the compliment. "Yeah. Yes I am."

"Gretchen! He just said he threatened to kill the security guards. How is that cool?"

"Just imagine what he can do with that power, Claire. He'd be a great cop."

"Him?" Claire asked.

"Me?" Doyle asked.

"Yeah. Just think about it. Armed robberies, people taken as hostages, he could make any criminal surrender. Why be a villain, when you can be a hero?"

Claire raised an eyebrow as she looked from Gretchen to Doyle. She really liked to know Doyle's answer to that question too.

"I don't think it matters anymore, it's too late for me."

"Says who?" Gretchen asked. "It's never too late to be a hero."

Claire was getting a little impatient. Gretchen had a lot of faith in humanity, but Claire had been dealing with villains for a long time and Doyle was certainly one of them. Some of them were just born evil. "Why do you need my help, Doyle?"

"I want you to do what you did before. Help me get away from here, give me a new identity and you'll never have to see me again."

"Until you join another carnival and start killing again? No."

Doyle sighed as he stood up from the chair. "I thought you'd say something like that."

"What are you doing?" Claire asked when Doyle came to stand before her.

"I'm not doing anything, Barbie. I want to offer you a trade. If I help you, will you help me?"

"There's nothing you can help me with."

"Maybe there is," Gretchen said. "I mean, you have to leave this place at some point, right? I've seen the press outside, Claire. They're all waiting for you to come outside to ask more questions." She looked at Doyle from the corner of her eye. "What you need is a bodyguard."

"A bodyguard?" Claire repeated. "I'm not some kind of celebrity. I don't need a bodyguard." Certainly not if it's going to be him.

"No, Barbie. You're not. Not yet, anyway." Doyle turned towards Gretchen. "What about security? They know I'm up here. They'll never let us through."

"You can make them let us through."

"Gretchen!" Claire didn't know what had gotten into Gretchen all of a sudden, but she didn't recognise her friend anymore.

"I'm not saying that he should make them point their guns at their own heads again. He just has to make them let us walk right past them."

"And then what?"

"And then he'll keep the press away from us as we try to get a cab."

"I like this girl," Doyle said, grinning. "Sounds like a plan to me. What do you say, Barbie?"

Claire glanced at Gretchen. There was no reason why they should go through all that trouble just to avoid the press. She didn't want to be seen with Doyle, she didn't even want to leave this hotel room yet. She didn't want Doyle to help her and she definitely didn't want to help him. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"Claire?" Gretchen asked.

Claire saw Gretchen raise her brow for just a second. Long enough for Claire to realise that Gretchen had a plan. "Okay, Doyle," she said as she turned her head to look at the puppeteer. "Just let me put on some clothes first." She stood up from the bed.

"Five minutes," he said, "and don't even think about doing something stupid. I will keep… Gretchen was it? I'll keep her company."

Claire looked back at Gretchen who clearly wasn't happy being left alone in the room with Doyle. Claire tried to look as apologetically as possible as she walked backwards in the direction of the bathroom. Once in there she took a deep breath and started gathering her clothes together as fast as she could. She dressed and left the bathroom again without even bothering to look in a mirror. "I'm ready, let's go."

But just when Claire wanted to open the door, someone else knocked on it, very loudly.

"Claire Bennet?!" she heard a male voice shout.

Doyle made Gretchen walk to the table and pick up a glass. She smashed the glass on the table unwillingly and held it to her throat. "Don't open that door, Barbie. Or your friend dies."

Claire turned around and saw Gretchen holding the broken glass to her neck. No! Gretchen didn't deserve this. She, unlike so many others, was actually a good person. Claire decided there, in that moment, that she was never going to be friends with anyone ever again. All she ever did was bringing danger into their lives.

"Claire…" Gretchen said.

"Shut up," Doyle said as he made Gretchen close her mouth. "You were just buying time, weren't you? The two of you. You're not going to help me."

"Miss Bennet?!" the male voice repeated. "Everything okay in there?!"

"Tell them everything's okay, Barbie." He put a bit more pressure on the glass against Gretchen throat, causing it to cut her skin. Drops of blood started gliding down her neck.

For a moment there, Claire didn't have any idea what to do. She didn't want Gretchen to get hurt, she didn't want Doyle to get away and she hated that she couldn't do anything about it. Her ability was so useless in these type of situations. Jumping out of the window was not an option, but what was? She had to keep Gretchen safe, that was more important than anything else. "I'm just going to tell them that I'm fine and ask them to leave, okay?"

"Why can't you just shout it, like he did?"

"Because then they can't see that I'm fine and they won't believe me."

Doyle was quiet for a moment, but couldn't disagree on that with Claire. "If you try anything..."

Claire took a deep breath and placed her hand on the doorknob. "I'm here. I'm opening the door now." As soon as she had opened the door, something rushed past her and before she knew it she was no longer standing in the hotel room.

After leaving Sylar alone in this room, Peter went looking for another where he could be for a while. He didn't go far, because he still didn't trust Sylar to be on his own. No, he stayed on the same floor, so he'd be able to hear if Sylar went anywhere. He didn't think that Sylar would go anywhere. The man had made it pretty clear that he wanted to stay near him. Sylar didn't leave the carnival without him, Sylar didn't leave Matt's house without him and Sylar was still here at the warehouse. Peter suspected that it had something to do with being alone.

It turned out to be Sylar's worst nightmare. Being alone. Alone with his immortality. It made Peter wonder what his own worst nightmare would be. Probably something similar to Sylar's. He always wanted to help people, to save people, but you can't save anyone when you're the last person alive.

He saved Sylar. Sylar saved Emma and thousands of other citizens. And now? Was he still trying to save people? If he stayed near Sylar, if he made sure that this changed man stayed changed, would that be the same as saving potential victims?

One hour. It took him one hour to realise that leaving Sylar on his own, had been a really bad idea. When he came back and found Sylar sleeping on the floor, he had one moment of intense relieve, before it changed into frustration. Sylar had been able to fall asleep. How? How was it possible for a man like Sylar, a man who had caused so much grief to so many people, to just fall asleep. Wasn't he bothered at all by his guilty conscience? Peter wondered if he should ask about that, as soon as Sylar would wake, but decided against it. It would either cause them to have another fight or Sylar would simply say that it was 'too personal' again.

Sylar seemed to be fast asleep, whereas Peter hadn't been able to sleep at all. He kept going over and over what Sylar had told him about the death of his brother. Sylar said that he wanted to kill Nathan, that it had nothing to do with his ability, but it got Peter thinking. His ability was the reason why he started killing in the first place. Peter would know. He started killing only minutes after taking Sylar's ability. How Sylar had been able to control it for so long, was a mystery to him.

Peter stared out of the window. The weather suited his miserable mood just fine. Rain had been pouring out of the heavens non-stop through the entire night. He hasn't had this much time to think in a long time. His work, mourning Nathan's death, his need for vengeance, it all kept him from being alone with his thoughts for too long. He had had a lot of time to think when he was trapped in Matt's mind prison with Sylar, but never used it. Figuring out how to escape had been the only thing on his mind all those years. That and convincing Sylar that there really was a way to escape.

He turned his head when he heard Sylar stir in his sleep. At least he feels safe enough to sleep. He got up and went into the hallway. He needed to stretch his legs and he didn't need to worry about Sylar going anywhere as long as he was still asleep.

He heard footsteps on the stairs. Shit. Peter crouched down and moved closer to the wall. Had they been found already? How long have they been here? Nine/ten hours? Too long. What was he supposed to do? Wake Sylar and leave? But then what? I have telekinesis. I can handle them. "Who's there?!" The sound of footsteps stopped immediately.

"It's me. Micah."

Peter ran a hand over his face and sighed. It was just Micah. He felt so stupid. He was prepared to attack whoever came up that staircase. Maybe Sylar was right and maybe Peter was indeed starting to become more like him. He had been spending so much time with the man, it wouldn't surprise him if he was.

Micah saw Peter half kneeling on the floor, half leaning against the wall. "Peter? What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing," Peter answered as he got up from the floor. Micah was carrying a couple of paper bags. "Why did you come back, Micah?"

"I've brought breakfast."

Peter frowned at Micah. "You've brought breakfast? For us?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"What's going on here?" Sylar asked as he came out of the room he fell asleep in earlier. He woke up, he heard voices and he didn't hesitate to find out where they were coming from.

"I've brought breakfast," Micah repeated as held up the bag with food.

"You didn't have to do that," Peter said. He really shouldn't have. Micah should have stayed far away from Sylar. He said that he wasn't going to hurt the kid and Peter believed him when he said that, but he did scare Micah and Peter wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Yeah, I did. I owe him." Micah looked at Sylar. "I haven't had the chance to thank you yet."

"Thank me for what?"

"For saving my life. Danko would've killed me, if it wasn't for you."

Oh that, Sylar thought. He shrugged and said, "It's no big deal."

"It is to me," Micah said. "I owe you my life."

If Peter didn't know any better, he would've thought that Micah had been brainwashed, somehow. At least Sylar did one thing right when he was working with Danko.

Sylar didn't know what to say. Yes, he had saved the boy, but did he need to explain why he did what he did? Or did he need to thank Micah for the nice gesture?

"So what did you bring?" Peter asked as Micah handed him one of the bags.

Or just ask him about the food, Sylar thought stupidly. He had to let Peter do the talking more often. The nurse had way better people skills than he did.

"Just sandwiches."

"Thanks, Micah. This is great." The kid's timing was perfect. Peter was starving.

Sylar however, was less enthusiastic. "Um, Micah? Where did you get the money to buy all this? You didn't steal it, did you?"

"No."

"Then where did you get the money?" Peter asked.

"I took it from Danko's bank account when he was still alive."

"You took…" Peter smiled as he imagined what Danko's face must have looked like when he found out that Rebel had been stealing from him. He didn't approve stealing from people, but this was Danko. He couldn't care less if Micah had robbed the man blind.

"You wouldn't be a rebel, if you hadn't done that now, would you?" Sylar actually felt proud of Micah. It sounded like something he would've done if he had Micah's ability. He took the other bag from Micah and looked inside. He didn't need to look any further, the smell told him enough. "I think this is yours, Peter."

Peter frowned at Sylar and the bag he was holding. "Why? What is it?"

"Tuna," Sylar answered as he made a face of pure disgust. It brought back too many bad memories.

All three of them went back into the room and found a comfortable place to sit to eat their sandwiches. Sylar and Micah sat on chairs they had found in the other rooms and Peter sat on the desk with his legs dangling over the side. As they ate, Micah told them how he'd been helping people with special abilities all that time. Peter wasn't paying attention to what Micah was saying. He was keeping an eye on Sylar, somehow expecting him to get aggressive again.

"So how does that work, talking to machines?" Sylar asked Micah.

Micah shrugged and swallowed a big piece of his sandwich. "I just tell them what to do. It's like telepathy, but then with machines instead of people."

"And it works on any kind of machine?"

"I haven't tried it on every machine yet, but yes."

"So, that's how you stole from Danko. You just told an ATM to give it to you?"

"Yep."

Enough with the questions, Sylar. Peter had the feeling that Sylar was getting a little bit too interested in Micah's ability. What was going on in his head right now? Was he considering whether he should take the ability or not? Was he fighting the hunger? Or was he just having a normal conversation, like the ones he and Peter used to have in Matt's mind prison? Peter knew it wasn't fair to be thinking like that, after he had told Sylar he believed him about having changed.

"So, you're just living here? Where's your family?"

"They're gone and I can take care of myself."

"Yes," Sylar agreed, "you certainly can. What about money? How much from Danko did you take?"

"Couple of grand, I spent most of it on my new laptop." Micah turned his head to look at Peter. "What's wrong with him?" he asked Sylar.

Not only Micah had noticed. Sylar knew that Peter had been staring at him for quite some time now. He didn't know what was wrong, but it was starting to freak him out. He had to get Peter out of whatever thought process he was in. "I think Peter's just jealous, because I saved his girlfriend."

Hearing his name brought Peter out from his thoughts. "Girlfriend? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me that there's nothing going on between you and Emma."

"You have a girlfriend?" Micah asked curiously.

"No. Emma and I are just friends," Peter said to Micah. To Sylar he said, "And I'm not jealous. I'm grateful. I don't know if you did it just to prove that you've changed or that you did it because you actually cared, but I really appreciate it either way. Thank you."

Whoa. Sylar wasn't expecting a speech. "I do care. Saving her… It felt good. Just like it felt good to not take Doyle's ability. Besides, I wanted to do something in return after you got me out of Matt's basement and she seemed really important to you."

"She is."

He likes her. It was all over Peter's face. Each time he mentioned her, his face lit up somehow. Maybe it was just because of Nathan's memories that Sylar started to care about something personal like Peter's relationships, but it was a part of him. One he couldn't simply ignore. It was that part of his brain that wanted to see his brother happy, after all the shit he had put him through. Emma seemed to make him happy. Sylar turned his head to Micah and saw the boy frowning at him. "What?"

"So weird…"

"What is?" The boy looked at him differently. The fear, he used to have when Sylar came near him, it seemed to be gone.

"You're being so… nice. Why can't you always be like that?"

"Yeah, why can't you?" Peter asked.

Sylar lifted his brow in surprise. He felt kind of ambushed by these two good Samaritans. "I have to think about my reputation, Micah."

Peter hopped off from the desk. "What reputation? Of killing people?"

It was meant as a joke. His reputation no longer mattered to him. Okay, maybe a little bit, because there was no way that he would ever go back to being the insignificant son of a watchmaker. He never wanted to go back to that miserable life ever again. He couldn't even if he wanted to. Too much had happened. So, what life did he want? He was done killing, he was done taking abilities. He remembered Peter telling him about that future where he had a home and a family. Somehow, he'd been able to have all that, even after the things he'd done. It was possible, but how? How could he have gone from being a cold blooded killer to having a normal life with a normal family?

Peter narrowed his eyes as he took a few steps in Sylar's direction. "Sylar?" He snapped his fingers to get the man's attention, but it didn't work. Sylar seemed oblivious to his surroundings. "Micah, get away from him."

"Why?" Micah asked as he went to stand next to Peter.

"I don't know," Peter said, slightly panicking. "He's not responding. Sylar?"

It was impossible. Once a killer, always a killer. Who'd want to start a family with that? And for the first time in all those years he regretted taking regeneration from Claire. He was going to be alone for the rest of his life. His immortal life. Even worse, he had to live in this world, with people who hated him, who despised him. Maybe I can ask Matt to bring me back to his mind prison. "It never should've happened," he said out loud and regretted it instantly.

"What should never have happened?" Peter asked as he moved closer to Sylar.

Sylar looked up at Peter and Micah. "All of it. The murders, the abilities... Just imagine what it would've been like if only..." Just shut up, you idiot!

"If only what, Sylar?"

He already started, he couldn't just leave it there. "If the company had never found me," he said to Peter. "I would've been dead and Nathan would still be alive."

Peter kneeled down next to Sylar and looked up at the man. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about..." Sylar paused as he looked at Micah. He wasn't sure if what he was about to say would be appropriate for a child to hear. He saw the way Micah was looking at him again. The fear had returned on the boy's face. "My suicide attempt, Peter."

"Your what?" Peter didn't know what to think of that. He didn't know what to say either. Sylar had tried to kill himself? Tried... but didn't succeed? Obviously. Did he change his mind at the last minute? Did someone find him? "When?" was the only thing he got out of his mouth.

"After I killed for the first time."

"What did the company have to do with that?"

"What did the... Everything!" Sylar burst out in laughter. "They 'saved' me, Peter. Elle... If she arrived at my work shop only a minute later... If she had just turned around and left me there... and then after pretending to be my friend, after pretending to care… They just wanted to see me kill again." He kept laughing, unable to stop. "Isn't that the most funniest thing you've ever heard? Nathan... he would still be alive if it wasn't for them... Elle, Bennet. All the others... If they'd just let me do it. If. They. Just. Ignored my existence..." they'd all still be alive... The laughter eventually died and so did a part of him.

Peter, totally surprised by Sylar coming forward about his attempted suicide, sank down on the floor. A wave of mixed feelings washed over him. He hated the company for saving Sylar, for not letting him die, but even more he hated himself for hating them. It was true. If Sylar had died, Nathan and all those other people would still be alive. He caught himself wishing that the Company had indeed ignored Sylar's existence and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Sylar had tried to end it, to put an end to his life before he could kill anyone else and the Company had interfered. The whole thing was so upsetting, he didn't even notice it when Micah went to stand on the other side of Sylar.

"Sylar," Micah began carefully.

"What?" Sylar said as he leaned forward with his eyes closed, face hidden in his hands. He couldn't look at Micah, not now. He didn't even have the balls to look either one of them in the eyes anymore. I'm so pathetic!

"I'm glad that you didn't die. If you had, you wouldn't have been there to help me get away from Danko."

"If I had died, the future would've been totally different, Micah."

"Maybe. Maybe not, but you wouldn't have been there to save my life. I would've been shot by Danko instead of you."

Peter looked up. Micah was right. Sylar had killed a lot of people, including Nathan, but he had also saved a lot of people. He had saved thousands of people, less than a day ago. Sylar had even saved him, less than a day ago. He was trying to make things right again.

"I was right, wasn't I?" Micah said.

"About what?" Sylar asked.

Micah placed his hand on Sylar's shoulder. "You saved us all."

Did I? I guess I saved some of them... Sylar had this strangely familiar feeling, like... Like he understood Micah. He frowned as he looked up at the boy. "Damn..." he murmured as he ran a hand through his hair.

"What?" Micah asked, confused.

"Talking to machines..." Sylar's eyes darted around the room as he tried to make sense of what just happened.

Peter got up from the floor. "Sylar?"

"Give me your phone, Peter."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, give me your phone."

Peter got his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Sylar. "It's no use, the battery's dead."

"I can make it work," Sylar said as he took the phone from Peter.

"What are you going to do? Use electricity?"

Sylar shook his head as he looked at Peter's phone.

Micah realised what was going on. "You have it too."

"What?" Peter asked. "He has what?"

"My ability…"

Peter frowned at Sylar and then at the phone he was holding. "That's not…" The phone turned on suddenly. "How did you…" He looked up, back at Sylar. "You took his ability?"

"I didn't take anything, Peter." Still looking at the phone, he murmured, "It just happened."

"How?"

"I think it's got something to do with empathy. It happened before." Elle had been struggling with her ability and he had helped her gain control over it again. He wasn't even focusing on taking her ability, it just happened. Just like it did now with Micah. He had connected with the boy, somehow.

"You mean like… my first ability?" Peter asked. That was how he'd been able to use his abilities in the beginning. He had to think of the people he absorbed abilities from and how those people made him feel.

Sylar shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't, but I didn't do it on purpose. I swear." He never even wanted to have Micah's ability. It happened by accident, but he had to make sure that Peter believed it. Absorbing Micah's ability disproved what he told Peter earlier, about no longer having the desire to take anyone's ability anymore.

All three of them were quiet for a while.

Eventually Peter went back and sat on the desk again. He didn't know if Sylar was telling the truth. The man was suddenly able to steal abilities unintentionally, but it seemed just a bit too convenient to Peter. Sylar could be lying. He could be using it as an excuse to take abilities. He said that it happened before, but there was no way in knowing for sure.

Sylar was just glad that they were no longer talking about his attempted suicide. It had left him depressed and exhausted. He was desperately in need of distraction and Micah's ability was just the thing he needed. It felt weird, though. A new ability in his possession… It's been so long since the last time he took a new one. Sylar stared at Peter's phone. Enter pin to unlock... Just tell it what to do. The phone began to unlock itself. Wow. Once inside Peter's phone he saw a couple of missed calls. "Mom called."

Peter lifted his head and frowned at Sylar. Did he just...

"Angela," Sylar corrected quickly. "Angela called. So did Bennet and... you've got a text."

Sylar was talking like Nathan again. Peter really didn't like it when he did that, but he wasn't that bothered by it this time. Sylar had done it before, but at least he was becoming aware of doing it. "What does it say?" He didn't mind Sylar going through his phone, because he didn't have anything to hide. He hardly ever used that thing.

I guess privacy is not an issue for him. Sylar told the phone to open the text message. "It's from Claire... She wants you to call her... Bennet talked to the police... and... oh, she wants you to be careful. Isn't that sweet?" Sylar figured that 'being careful' probably had something to do with him.

"I'll call her back later," Peter said as he looked at his watch. "I think we should go."

Micah shifted on his chair nervously. "Can I come with you guys?"

Peter looked at Sylar for a moment. He wasn't sure if letting Micah tag along would be such a good idea, but on the other side, Sylar had already taken the kid's ability. He no longer had a reason to kill Micah, so Peter guessed it would be safe enough for Micah to come with them. "What do you think?" he asked Sylar.

"Fine by me," Sylar answered. He and Peter hadn't fought all morning, and that was probably because of Micah. Having the kid around did have its perks.

"Let's go then," Peter said. He stood and moved to the doorway. Micah followed, but Sylar didn't. The man was still sitting in his chair. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute." Sylar needed a moment to pull himself together. His head was still all over the place, after what he just told Peter and Micah. The way he felt when he tried to end things… it wasn't that different from how he was feeling today.

"Okay…" Peter didn't want to leave Sylar alone in the state he was in, but he didn't have much choice. "Come on, Micah." He and Micah went into the hallway and towards the staircase. "Have you ever flown before, Micah?"

Micah shook his head.

"We don't have to fly, if you don't want to…"

"No, I do."

Peter smiled as he remembered how excited he had been when he had flown by himself for the first time. "You can go with me, if you want. I just have to take flight from Sylar." If he'll let me take it, he thought as he looked back at the room they just came from.

They went down the staircase.

"What if I fall?"

Peter stopped going down for a second and turned around. He looked up at Micah. "You won't. I flew with my brother all the way to Haiti without falling." Sort of. He did fall, but that was because of the eclipse. "We won't be going that far. Just remember to hold on tight and you'll be fine."

Micah smiled back at Peter, but then tilted his head to the side. His eyes widened. "Peter, behind you!" he yelled.

Peter turned his head and found himself standing face to face with Noah Bennet. "Noah…"

"I'm sorry, Peter," Noah said. He grabbed Peter's head with one hand and pressed a piece of cloth against Peter's face with the other.

Sylar stood and started pacing back and forth. Oh, come on. Stop being such a wuss! He stopped pacing and inhaled through his nose heavily. He closed his eyes and thought about his father, living in some trailer, in the woods, alone, probably dead by now. What if he had the same destiny? What if that was the only way to live the rest of his life? He chuckled as he considered becoming a taxidermist, hunting down rabbits instead of people.

Micah ran into the room, completely out of breath.

"I told you," Sylar said, "I just need a minute." Kids these days have no patience.

"No... It's Peter... He's..."

"What? What's with Peter, Micah?"

"They're here! They're here in the building!"

"Who's here?!"

"Bennet, the company, all of them."

"Where's Peter?"

"They've got him."

Sylar moved towards the doorway, but Micah was blocking his way. "Move!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going after them."

"No!" Micah shouted. "Don't you see? That's what they want you to do."

"I don't care!" He could already feel himself becoming more anxious without Peter's presence. "What am I supposed to do then? Leave? Without him? Not an option, Micah. Not an option."

"We'll figure something out!"

There was nothing to figure out. It was over. They had been found. There was no point in running away from these people, not if it meant that he would be on his own again. "No, we won't."

"What are you going to do then?"

Sylar pursed his lips as he stared at the doorway. "Something I should've done a long time ago."

"What's that?"

Sylar looked at the phone he was still holding. "Micah, I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"I want you to go out there. Go with Peter. Stay with him. Make sure he's alright and when you think it's safe enough, I want you to give this back to him. Don't give it to anybody else, just him." He handed Micah the phone. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah... but what about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just go."

Micah stared at him for a couple of seconds, before he turned around and left the room.

Sylar took a deep breath and did something he hadn't done in a long time, something that still felt as unpleasant as always. He shape shifted.

Next Chapter: The Aftermath