Back in Time
Shawn jumped up to his feet the instant they appeared again in a place he didn´t know. But he was sure it was not the interrogation room any longer. Interrogation rooms of NSA headquarters were by far not that dirty and dark and there were no trashcans standing around in them either. So Shawn assumed that they were in an allay of some sort. Somewhere in a city that could be L.A. but didn´t have to be. Hell, considering who´d brought them here, he couldn´t even be sure about the time they were in.
"All right, dude." he breathed, glad that he didn´t have to explain to Jules or Lassie why the President of the United States was lying in the dirt of a dark allay somewhere. "I have no taser gun on me anymore." he stated matter of factly, pointing at Nathan and Suresh. "What means when these two wake up, they wake up and then they´ll demand an explanation. So you better start talking. Why am I here?"
Hiro looked at him and sighed … and started talking.
Shawn listened to him, partly with interest but most of the time with a great deal of disbelieve. A disbelieve he earned mostly from years and years of Gus´ skepticism. And of course the fact that this man that he´d just helped escaping was a known criminal, a fugitive, an identified Special that had managed it to avoid captivity for many years.
But the messages on his cell phone had told him to come here and there was no denying about the fact that he´d actually listened to this kind of insanity.
When Hiro was done talking Shawn nodded, thoughtfully, considering his next step.
"That´s an interesting story you tell me here." he admitted. "It only has one problem. You tell me that the life I lived, for these last few years, the world that I know, is not supposed to exist."
"No, no." Hiro cried. "Not exist. It does exist. Just … different."
"And what is the big difference?" Shawn demanded to know. "The one that makes your version of it so much better than mine? Because I need a damn good reason to put everything I know and everyone I love at jeopardy."
"I think you know that yourself." was the very calm and surprisingly convincing response he got. "You weren´t here if you wouldn´t have a reason."
"Okay." Shawn snapped. "You know what? This reason, that you´re talking about is this …" he held out his cell phone, as if it were a shield against this whole insanity. "A simple. Text message. An anonymous message that, as far as I know it, could easily be a prank."
"And still you´re here." was all Hiro said, baffling him into a silence that almost lasted an eternity.
"I have a wife." he stated at last. "Okay? She expects a child. What am I supposed to tell her? Hi, Abs. Sorry, but I had to rip apart the whole universe, because someone sent me a message."
Hiro´s eyes jumped down to the cell phone again and all the sudden he gasped, grabbing Shawn´s hand, to see it better.
"Not someone." he cried. "You."
"What?"
"You." Hiro repeated. "This message is from you. IMU. Don´t you see? That´s what Doc Brown did when he sent Marty a letter to the future, so he would know what to do. He signed with his initials."
Shawn shook his head, confused. "But my initials are SS." he said and halted when he heard his own words. "Wow. That has a strange uncomfortable sound to it." he found. "Historically speaking."
"IMU." Hiro read it for him. "I am you."
Shawn needed another moment and Hiro who held the cell phone before his eyes, showing him the message again. And then he suddenly understood what this little man was talking about.
"Who are you?" he´d texted on that day when he´d gotten the first message. And the answer had been simple and plain.
"IMU" with a winking smiley.
"Goddammit." he exclaimed, suddenly standing on rubber legs.
"See?" Hiro cried with an excited smile. "So will you listen to yourself, Shawn Spencer?"
Shawn´s mind was racing, he couldn´t even think of an answer to this question. Not quiet yet.
"Wait a second." he demanded and started to skim through the messages again. All the messages from IMU he´d gotten over the course of those strange few weeks, three years back. At a particular one he stopped. "Chris Walken says: A fallen Angel can´t be killed by shooting his heart. You have to stab him in the back of his head."
"Shit."
"What?" Hiro stared at him, his eyes worried.
"The reference is all wrong." Shawn mumbled, ignoring Hiro. But on the other hand … was it?
He glanced at the two unconscious men on the ground, his hand subconsciously hovering at the level of his temple. He was trying to think, trying to decide what to do. If he was wrong, if there was only the slightest chance that Hiro was lying about Nathan being not Nathan … how was he supposed to know? But on the other hand … hadn´t this message already told him how?
On the ground the two men stirred. It didn´t take long for them to come back around and to realize that they were not at NSA anymore.
"Spencer." the President addressed him, standing up, helping Suresh to his feet.
He glared at Shawn, angrily. But that gaze was still offering the option for forgiveness. He was still ready to let Shawn explain himself, to somehow get away with what he´d done, just like always. He was still ready to forget. Something that would change very soon, Shawn knew that.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Nathan demanded to know. "Where are we?"
"It´s not where are we." Shawn replied. "It´s when."
"What?" but Nathan´s gaze jumped to Hiro, before the time traveler could even think of anything to say.
"I brought us to the past." he affirmed the guess, with a nod. "To fix the damage that has been done."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Nathan spat.
"We can´t be in the past." Suresh exclaimed, extremely worried about this possibility. "Hiro. You know that. Meddling around with fate. If we change only one thing, the consequences for our own reality …"
"But that´s exactly the reason." Hiro talked over him. "Those consequences you´re talking about, they´ve already happened."
The expression of the man Shawn had known as the President for two years, was hard and threatening.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he growled. "Shawn, I can´t believe you´re actually helping this man. He´s a fugitive. One of the people, I´ve hired you to hunt."
Shawn´s lack of response made him stop, unsure of what to say or to do. This was something Shawn had never expected to see. The President of the United States, Nathan, who looked him in the eyes and didn´t know what he, Shawn, would do. But who could blame him? He hadn´t known himself that he would do this, until the moment he raised his gun.
„I´m sorry, Mr. President." he said. „But I need proof."
And with that he pulled the trigger, shooting a bullet straight through the heart of the man he´d been working for for two years. He did it fast, so Nathan wouldn´t see it coming. And because he mustn´t allow himself to change his mind again.
Nathan flinched at the impact, an expression of utter disbelieve in his eyes and Shawn almost couldn´t believe that he´d really done it. But he had. The blood on Nathan´s shirt and the terrified cry of the scientist next to him, was proof of it.
"What did you do?" Suresh cried, crouching next to the wounded man on the ground. The dying man on the ground.
Only that Nathan wasn´t dying. Maybe for a moment he was, but that moment passed. Because he wasn´t Nathan. Because Nathan couldn´t survive a shot through the heart and heal that wound within seconds, the bullet dropping out of his back, clattering to the ground. Only Sylar could do that. And now the doctor knew it.
"My god." he exclaimed, meeting the gaze of his President, knowing, regretting. Regretting that this had happened, that he´d found out.
"There are a lot of lives at stake here." Hiro Nakamura spoke. "Three years ago the real Nathan Petrelli died. Sylar killed him … and took over his place."
Mohinder immediately jumped up and skipped back, away from that man on the ground, a man he´d thought he knew.
"Because of that." Hiro kept talking. "Many people died who were not supposed to die. The people that died in Central Park … Peter Petrelli, Claire, the cheerleader, Noah Bennet. And many many others. In the world I come from, Sylar is not a villain anymore. He helped to save the people in Central Park. And he would help us now to make things right again."
The man on the ground that was not the President of the United States, stood up. There was no wound in his chest anymore, where Shawn´s bullet had hit him, and his eyes seemed to see only one thing in this world. Hiro.
"I don´t know what world you´re talking about." he said. "But this is not my version of it."
Shawn raised his gun again, to keep Sylar in line, before he could attack Hiro. But this time it was Suresh who acted before anyone knew what happened. He hauled himself at the man that wasn´t Nathan Petrelli, although he´d claimed to be so many years, and threw him to the ground, punching him in the face.
"Liar." he cried and punched him again. „Murderer." Another punch. "Show me your real face." Punch. "Show yourself."
Shawn moved without thinking and tried to grab Suresh´s arm. "Hey. Stop that you …"
Suresh just pushed him back and Shawn´s back collided heavily with the wall of the building.
"He deserves to die." the geneticist shouted, holding the collar of the man beneath him. "If he´s really Sylar."
The man that had been Nathan Petrelli to him these last three years, looked up at him, not speaking a single word. And then his face started to shift, to morph back into what was beneath the surface. Into his real self.
The shock about seeing the man he´d considered his friend for three years, morph into the man who´d killed his father, only lasted a few seconds. But those few seconds were enough for Sylar to reach out and block Mohinder´s next punch, shoving him back and into the wall, right where Shawn had landed, only a minute ago.
At the end of the allay Shawn and Hiro just rounded the corner, running away from them, to safety. Sylar didn´t bother with them. Mohinder was demanding his whole attention. A little more telekinetic pressure stopped the fuming man´s struggle.
"You were always far too passionate, doctor." Sylar told him. "Kinda annoying at times."
"Murderer." the doctor spat but the only reaction he caused was an exasperated groan.
"Now here we go again." Sylar looked at him with flashing eyes. "You can stop right there because I know what you want to say." he spat. "That I´m a monster that killed innocent people for his own personal gain, but you … helped me to find a lot of these so called innocents, to put them behind bars … or kill them. So look at yourself in the mirror before you judge me."
"I helped to stop the dangerous ones." Mohinder hissed, still struggling, still glaring with hate and disgust. "People like you."
"Like Samuel Sullivan?" Sylar held against it. "Like Frank Wieland?" His eyes softened a little. "We saved the world together." he recalled. "Maybe you should think of that too, Mohinder. I gave you a purpose these last few years."
"To find people for you that you can kill?" the geneticist shouted. "How many of the so called collaterals died from your hand? Huh?"
"I only did what was necessary. What´s wrong with gaining a few more abilities while doing so?"
"You´re a murderer. You killed Nathan … and Peter. And Claire, for god´s sake. I wonder why you didn´t kill Angela too and wipe out the whole Petrelli family. You were on a good way."
"I didn´t try to wipe them out." Sylar tightened the grip around Mohinder, his anger flashing up again. "They were in my way, I had no choice."
"Then you better go right ahead and kill me too." the doctor replied without hesitation. "´Cause I´m not giving you a choice either."
Sylar looked at him, his head askew. "Come on, Mohinder, try to be reasonable." he begged. "We worked good together these last three years."
"No. You deceived me to do your dirty work."
Once again Sylar´s anger rose up and he closed his fist a little more, choking.
"Your memory seems to need some refreshment, doctor." he hissed. "It was you who came up with the test to find out if someone had an ability or not. No one forced you to do this." A moment of silence and then Sylar´s gaze morphed into something that almost looked like a plead. "Do you want me to kill you?" he asked the struggling scientist. But instead of letting him speak, he kept his throat tight. "No." he said. "Better don´t answer that. You´ll only make it worse for yourself."
A distant noise made him turn his head, a smile gracing his lips. "Ah, yeah. Almost forgot."
The sound was obvious. Something had been knocked over, further down this alleyway, maybe in a street around the corner. Not too far away yet. They probably weren´t sure if they should really run away or if they should come back to help the doctor. Well, soon they´d know that they should have run away. And this pathetic try to gain his attention so he would come and follow them, probably walking into their trap … it wouldn´t work.
He turned back to Mohinder, still smiling in anticipation for the hunt. The doctor´s gaze was furious. Of course. He knew what Sylar would do.
"I´ll take care of you later." Sylar decided and moved his hand a little, just a little to put the fuming man to sleep.
Mohinder´s limb body fell down into Sylar´s arms and he carefully lay him down to the ground. Another sound and his attention was back on Shawn, somewhere ahead in those alleyways, obviously impatiently awaiting him.
Sylar stood up, facing ahead … and smiled.
It had been a while since he´d had a worthy pray and Shawn was a foe more than worth the hunt. Maybe not for a power – what was this single one against so many others? – but for the intellect and for the heart. Because he definitely understood the rules of the hunt. That invisible threat between hunter and pray, which, when the opponents were equal, could make the border between them swim and waver, until no one really knew anymore who was hunting whom.
For years Sylar/Nathan had ordered Shawn and his team to find Sylar and even though he´d known that it was impossible, sometimes he´d wondered what would happen if Shawn should actually find him. If he should someday learn the truth about Nathan Petrelli. What would he do? Well. It seemed he was about to find out.
He walked around the corner, his eyes and ears trained to not to miss the slightest details. So far it was quiet. No sound, no movement. But the noise Shawn had made to lure him here, had come from this allay, he knew.
Sylar kept walking, slowly, carefully. Always listening. Always ready.
"Oh, Shahawn." he sang into the silence of the allay. The echo of his own voice was the only answer he got. "Where are you, buddy?" he whispered, turning around in all directions. "Come out, come out wherever you are."
Suddenly there was a sound. Sylar halted, listened. Nothing more.
He smiled and kept walking.
After a while he heard him again, closer this time, more bold. And then he cocked his gun.
"Freeze." he demanded, his voice astoundingly even.
Sylar smiled and stopped, standing still.
"Turn around." Shawn demanded and Sylar complied. He raised his brows at him.
"There you are." he found. "I´ve been looking for you."
Shawn didn´t answer.
"Where´s your friend?" Sylar asked him but he still didn´t get any answer.
There was something in Shawn´s eyes, something hard and Sylar decided that he didn´t like it to be shot, twice a day. One flick of his hand and the gun was ripped out of Shawn´s hand, flying away into a distance, too far for the special agent to reach it.
"Don´t be stupid, Shawn." Sylar spoke. "You know that you can´t defeat me with something like that."
Shawn gave a humorless little chuckle. "Funny." he said. "My team was looking for you for all these years. And all this time you were right in front of us." he shook his head, smirking. "I´d give something to see Gus´ face now."
Sylar couldn´t help but smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. Shawn spread his arms.
"So what am I supposed to do now?" he asked him. "I figure you can imagine that I´m a bit ambivalent right now. Technically I have to arrest you. Only that I never imagined it to be you, you know. Kinda unproductive to arrest the own boss."
Sylar didn´t respond, but Shawn didn´t need a response. He understood him very well.
"So, what do we do now?" he asked again.
"I don´t know, Shawn." Sylar spoke. "What do you think?"
The head of the President´s very own special task force only shook his head. And somehow Sylar couldn´t help himself. He was disappointed. If he´d expected anyone to find a way out of this, it would have been Shawn. But as it seemed the former fake psychic had met his match, the one situation where he couldn´t talk himself out anymore. What a shame.
"I tell you what I think." Sylar spoke up, deciding to end his suffering at last. "All this …" he gestured around and shook his head. "Let´s chalk this up to an unfortunate episode, okay? No one but us knows what happened here."
A frown appeared on Shawn´s forehead, facing Sylar´s intense almost encouraging gaze. The killer nodded.
"So why don´t you do what you always did best," he went on. "And help me do the right thing? Help me catch that little Japanese Picachu and make him bring us back home. We all go back to work and everything will be just like always."
There was a moment of stunned silence before Shawn blurred out: "Sounds great." A quick shake of his head. "Only it wouldn´t." he shattered Sylar´s hopes of having convinced him. "Do you really think I could just forget that? Who you really are? Tell me how I should do that?" He pointed at his own head, smiling. "Eidetic memory, remember?"
His smile vanished and he shook his head.
"Every time I look at Jules from now on, I will wonder if you´re really the man she married. Every time I´ll talk to Lassie, I´ll wonder what he´d do if he knew … that he works for a murderer. And don´t even get me started on Gus. Because I don´t know how long I could keep quiet, as soon as he starts asking me why I act so different all the sudden when I´m around you. And we both know he´d notice."
Sylar lowered his gaze for a moment, believing that Shawn was done. But he wasn´t.
"And what about Suresh?" he asked, twisting the knife in the wound even more. "Even if I would agree to keep it a secret. You really think he would? Not the way he looked at you when he learned who you really were."
Sylar closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, as if it were his ears. He didn´t want to hear any more of this. He´d hoped that there was a way to fix this mess. But Shawn didn´t seem to want this. Not when he went on and on about how impossible this was.
When Sylar looked back up at him, he was angry. One motion of his hand shoved Shawn backwards into the wall. The young man gasped but only for a moment. Then his back hit the wall and the air got forced out of his lungs.
"I never wanted it to end like this, Shawn." Sylar told him.
His victim – and friend – struggled under his grip, his eyes never leaving his.
"I know." he brought out, almost a whimper.
Sylar nodded, understanding, and it almost broke his heart. "Don´t worry." he said. "I´ll take care of Abigail … and the child, as soon as it is born. Your faithful services will not be forgotten."
"What about Suresh?" Shawn blurred out, once again. "You kill him too?"
Something inside of Sylar flinched at this and made him stop. He didn´t want to but his determination had just been cracked.
"See?" Shawn pointed out, seeing the change in his eyes. "And that´s the point that really gives me a hard time. I have worked for you for two years. You´ve been my friend too. Maybe not the way Gus is my friend or the way Jules and Lassie are my friends. But we. Were. Friends, dude. Tell me that I´m wrong."
Sylar could only stare at him, frowning, confused, almost too shocked to respond. Shawn smiled at this missing answer, shaking his head.
"I just refuse to believe that the man I learned to know over these last two years, did not exist." he said. "I might have seen another face but I´m good at estimating people. Something about all this must have been real. Because I refuse to believe that someone, even a shapeshifter, could fool me like that for. Two. Years." He took a breath, so quickly it sounded like a sob. "I need to know." he said. "That it was not just a lie. That the man I know is still somewhere in there." His gaze was pleading. "Show me that he´s still there." he begged. "Show me that he was not just an illusion."
Sylar looked into those hazel eyes of a man he´d considered his friend for two years and all the sudden he just couldn´t stop himself.
He lowered his arm, not quiet letting go of his telekinetic grip on Shawn, but enough to allow him some more freedom to move. His face was morphing almost on its own, reforming itself. Until it was Nathan who stood before Shawn again, not Sylar the serial killer.
Shawn´s face didn´t change. He just looked at him.
Sylar/Nathan smiled, almost apologetic and shrugged his shoulder.
"I´m still me, Shawn." he said with the voice of Nathan Petrelli, President of the United States. "It´s always been me."
Shawn swallowed, his gaze full of regret. "I know." he said.
And that was the last thing Sylar saw, before something was driven into the back of his head, so violently that he thought it would come out on the other side again. Barely three seconds later the world around him went dark.