Waiting
When Hiro came back, all eyes turned towards him in an instant.
"And?" Bennet asked and Hiro smiled.
"My mission was a success." he reported proudly. "Matt Parkman will do what we asked him for."
A common relieve could be sensed throughout the whole house. Bennet nodded, hardheadedly.
"At least he´ll try." he rephrased Hiro´s optimism. "Let´s not forget he has to get to him first."
"How will we know if he succeeded?" Lassiter asked.
"I´m afraid we can´t." was the plain answer. "Not until we get the word … somehow."
After that it was silent. Just for a moment.
"Then … what do we do now?" Shawn asked, no one in particular.
Bennet only shrugged. "Waiting."
"And for how long?"
The Company man gave a subtle smile. "I´d say we call it a night." he suggested. "Let´s get some rest. And keep going tomorrow."
Shawn made a sound of utter disbelieve, coming from deep inside his throat. "Are you serious?" he cried.
"Go home, kid." his father spoke, his voice calm and tired. "Get some sleep. You´ll need it."
"But we …" Shawn didn´t know how to go on and when his eyes found Sylar´s, pleading him to help, the killer had to decline. He shook his head.
"Come on, Shawn." Gus said, quietly, idly nudging his friend. "I give you a ride."
Sylar saw the hesitation in Shawn´s eyes but eventually even he had to give in, regarding how everybody else around him, started to collect their stuff, getting ready to move home. Janice Parkman gave Hiro a grateful hug, before she left the sitting room, going back upstairs to her sleeping son. Henry Spencer came back from the other room, a pillow and a blanket under his arm, preparing the couch for Molly to sleep on it. He had another cot in the garage, he told Mohinder and went out to fetch it.
Sylar couldn´t stand it any longer. If he remained where he was only one more minute, he would explode, maybe even in the literal meaning. So he started to move, more abruptly than he intended and Molly
immediately tensed, when she saw him coming.
"Don´t worry, kid, I´m not interested in you." he rasped, out of his patience and faced Mohinder. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
The geneticist hesitated, Sylar could see that, but when he turned around and headed for the kitchen, Mohinder followed. As soon as they were alone, Sylar swirled around, facing him, demanding an answer.
"Do we have a problem?" he asked and after a moment of silence: "You don´t even try to pretend that you don´t know what I mean. So I assume we have."
Mohinder didn´t give a response. But somehow his look was more than Sylar needed for an answer. Oh, yes, they did have a problem.
"You mind sharing it?" he snapped. "What have I done? Why do you keep treating me as if I were the enemy here?"
"Because you are what you are." Mohinder burst out, at last. "Okay?"
His words startled Sylar more than he was ready to admit. There was something in Mohinder's glare that he hadn´t seen in a long time. Disgust. His chest was heaving with each breath, labored.
"I mean …" Mohinder started and Sylar could tell that this wasn´t easy for him either. He was looking for words, to describe something he barely understood himself. To give him the answer, he´d demanded. But facing this, Sylar wasn´t sure he still wanted to hear it.
"I know, we´re working together." Mohinder started anyway. "Fair enough. I remember that. I remember everything. But that´s. Exactly. The point. I remember. Everything."
His eyes were sharp, accusing, condemning, all in one.
"You deceived me." he said. "You used me. You killed my father and dozens of others. Innocent people. You´re a murderer." He stopped himself, briefly, to consider his next words. "I can understand that you wanted to change. Why I decided to support you with this. I can even understand how I happened to work with you. It kinda makes sense, head-thinking-wise. But I can´t understand how I could have ever been your friend. How I could ever trust you. With my life or Molly´s. In any way."
Sylar needed time to compute, time he didn´t have. "So you say you don´t trust me anymore?" he heard himself ask.
Mohinder's voice was hard when he answered. "I don´t see how I could."
For a moment Sylar found himself unable to speak. This revelation, although not completely unexpected, had a deeper impact than he´d expected, leaving him utterly confused and rattled. The corner of his mouth curled up, to a humorless chuckle.
"But you did." he recalled, halfheartedly.
Mohinder exhaled. "I know. I remember that. I just don´t see how …" he didn´t finish the sentence. He didn´t need to. "I´m sorry." he shook his head and for the first time since they´d entered the kitchen, Sylar saw something in his eyes that indeed looked as if he was sorry. "I just don´t know what to believe anymore." Mohinder said. "Just because this other version of our life is not existent anymore, doesn´t make it undone."
"I know." Sylar needed an unexpected amount of willpower to raise his gaze again, and look at the geneticist. "Would it make a difference if I´d say I´m sorry?" he asked, but Mohinder only sighed.
"It´s not that simple."
"I know." And he did. He did. "What …" he shrugged, smiling helplessly. "So what does that mean? Where are we now?"
"I don´t know." Mohinder said, honest as he could be.
Sylar could only shake his head. "What do we do now?"
Mohinder shook his head in return. "I don´t know." Nothing more. "I need to take care of Molly. Excuse me."
Sylar looked after him, not sure what to think anymore. Was that it? Just like that? All this work, all that time he´d invested in building up something that finally, finally could last. A partnership that actually worked for him. A place where he was save, grounded, where he had a purpose. Was all that falling apart now? Just like this?
Only a moment after Mohinder had vanished around the corner, Shawn stepped into view, his gaze down, almost shamefully for interrupting. He cleared his throat.
"This ehm … this house seems to be running out of beds." he said. "And my ehm … my Dad wouldn´t be too fond of you staying here tonight so … I have a couch that I could spare."
Sylar stared at him blankly for a moment, facing a pair of sympathetic hazel eyes. Eventually he nodded and followed him outside.
...
When Matt Parkman left his hotel room, the two guards inside were idly sitting on the table, nice and obedient, like two well behaved boys. He´d waited barely two minutes before he´d turned on them, pushing the thought of a quiet evening in their minds, making them stand down while he walked out into the hallway.
The one guard Shana had posted outside in the hall, sitting unsuspiciously on the couch out here, got up and sat down again, after Matt gave him the order. The time of being nice was over. He had no idea what he would make Shana do, but he would do something to make her pay for threatening his family. Maybe trapping her in her biggest nightmare.
He reached the door and knocked, demanding.
It was Perkins who opened the door. He opened his mouth but the words never left his mouth.
"Let me in." Matt ordered and Perkins stepped aside, holding the door open so he could enter.
Matt looked around. The suite was empty.
"Where are they?" he swirled back to Perkins. "Where´s Shana? And Nathan?"
"Miss Stockwell and the senator left half an hour ago." Perkins told him. „They didn´t tell me where they went."
Matt cursed. „Did they say when they´d be back?" he asked but already knew the answer. Of course Perkins shook his head.
Matt cursed again, tried to think. There was no way to find out where they were and waiting here was too much of a a risk, not knowing if they´d come back at all. He´d promised Janice to come back home, so that was a risk he wasn´t willing to take.
But he couldn´t just leave either. Not with Shana´s men still here, free to do whatever they pleased, free to walk away after they´d kidnapped and threatened the life of his family. He was a cop. He couldn´t allow them to get away with this. And even more important, he was a father. And that meant he couldn´t allow them to ever threaten them again.
The decision was made. He faced Perkins and reached out for his mind.
"You and your men will do exactly what I tell you."
...
The street was quiet and abandoned, Gus´ blue Toyota Echo the only moving thing as it seemed. The two men got out and Gus threw Shawn an asking gaze, full of uncertainty and worry. But Shawn was not worried at all. He only smiled at his friend, telling him to go home and sleep well. He´d see him tomorrow, first thing in the morning. After a last brief glance at Sylar, the killer, Gus drove away.
Shawn waved after him, until he was around the corner. After that, he and Sylar stood at the curbside for a moment, just standing, while the sound of the motor faded in the distance, a distance that seemed to be so much farther at night than it ever could in the daylight.
"Okay." Shawn spoke at last, turning to the superpowered man next to him. "What do we do now?"
Sylar only glanced at him, briefly, before idly looking ahead at the street again.
"Sleep?" he suggested, cocking one brow ever so slightly.
With that he turned around and headed for the door, to Shawn´s appartement. The fake psychic needed a second to deal with this totally unexpected answer. Seriously? When he realized he was still standing in his place, he swirled around and followed Sylar to the door, quickly unlocking it.
"Seriously, dude." he said, switching on the light. "You are aware of the fact that I only said that so we could sneak out of the window."
"What for?" Sylar asked, with a sigh.
Shawn just couldn´t believe it. He raised his shoulders. "To save the President?"
But the only reaction he got, was a dry chuckle.
"This is not 24, Shawn." Sylar told him, his voice tired. "This is real life."
"Sure." Shawn shrugged. "I know that. But it would make an awesome plot for a TV show." he added with a smirk. "Honestly can you imagine Jack Bauer with a power? Wait. Then his name would actually be Jack Power, wouldn´t it? And even if not, his power would definitely be his voice, because that man has some yell, it can´t be natural."
Sylar´s tired facade cracked at last and he dropped his head, laughing quietly.
It was a relieve to see that. For a while Shawn had truly believed the killer would succumb to his depression. But when there was something Shawn knew for sure, then it was this: laughing was the first and only medicine against a coming up depression.
"Listen." he started, more serious this time. "I know it´s not easy. Of course I know. I went through the same ordeal …"
"Exactly." Sylar cried out. "But you don´t despise me. Do you?" Shawn shook his head and Sylar nodded, almost relieved. "Then why does Mohinder?" he asked, really asked, as if Shawn could explain this mystery to him. "Why does he have to make it so …" he tried to find the right word but failed, cursing.
"Maybe because you lied to him?" Shawn suggested.
Sylar looked up, glaring. "I lied to everyone." he rasped. "Including you."
"Don´t get me wrong, dude, but I never really trusted you." Shawn chuckled. "Nathan, I mean." He halted, blinking. "Wow, that´s … complicated."
"What?"
Shawn shook his head. "What I meant to say is … the worst thing you can do to a person, is not to hurt him, physically, or to even kill them. The worst thing you can do to someone, is to shatter their trust. And let´s face it, that´s what you did, dude. Because he trusted you, and you deceived him. More than just once. Ever since you guys met, you keep lying to him about who you are and that is no base for a friendship. Honestly, it´s almost as if you don´t want him to know you."
Sylar glared at Shawn, angry all the sudden. "You´re barely the one to talk." he growled. "Psychic."
"At least my best friend knows my real name, dude. Mr. President. Or should I say Zane?"
Sylar frowned, startled. "He told you that?"
"We had three months to talk, remember?"
Syar lowered his gaze, taken aback and Shawn felt that he´d gone too far.
"Dude. I just …" he sighed. "You know. You´re right. I´m not the one to talk. I lied as well. To the one person that means the most to me. And we both know what happened when Jules found out. She never forgave me. She never really trusted me again. So I know how that feels."
"She forgave you, Shawn." Sylar´s eyes were soft, when he stepped closer, as if he needed to comfort him. "She never told you, but she did. She never really held it against you. And you were the only person in the world, she would have trusted with her life." he halted, for a moment. "Maybe except for Carlton."
Shawn looked at him, startled. "What about you? You were her husband."
But Sylar shook his head. "I might have been but …" he only shook his head, once again. "Sometimes the people we end up with, are not the people we really want to be with." He smiled to himself, sadly. "Sometimes."
Shawn looked down, feeling uncomfortable all the sudden. He cleared his throat.
"So what is it now?" he asked. "Are we getting over there and save the day, or what? Or rather … the night, because it´s already …" he looked at his watch.
"How?" Sylar wanted to know. Shawn only shrugged. "By helping that Parkman dude out of the trouble, he´s probably getting himself into right now. I mean seriously, you said yourself that this plan is not gonna work. And I think the same. Sending one guy against a whole bunch of villains all on his own? Please. No matter how good this guy can read minds, he has no chance against a bunch of mercenaries. We could do so much better. I mean with all your powers … you could kick their asses in thirty seconds."
This time Sylar smiled, pleased, coaxed.
"And what would be your part in it?" he asked, catching Shawn off guard.
"Awesomeness?" he replied, at last. "Are you serious?"
But his offended cry, only caused Sylar to chuckle.
"Come on, you can get us over there." Shawn urged him. "We can´t just sit around here and wait for this guy to get himself killed. Or worse. And that is what will happen."
At last the killer stopped laughing and faced him, more serious. "You´re probably right." he admitted.
"Of course, I´m right." Shawn clapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. "Okay, then. What do we need?"
Sylar regarded him in silence for a moment. "Would you switch the light off?" he asked.
Shawn blinked. "Huh?"
"The light." Sylar repeated and finally Shawn understood.
"Oh. Sure, of course." He swirled around and pushed the light switch. "And now?" he asked into the dark room.
"Come over here." Sylar´s voice spoke and Shawn did his best to comply without tripping over something. Eventually he stood by the killer´s side, in a corner of his living room.
"Take my hand." Sylar prompted.
Shawn did. He could see Sylar´s eyes in the semi darkness of the room and his excitement got the better of him at last. God, that was so cool.
An amused smile curled the killer´s lips and Shawn could hear a faint chuckle, before Sylar shook his head and faced the wall.
"And some people actually say I look crazy." he murmured, reaching out a hand for the shadow.
Shawn frowned in confusion but a moment later, he was already pulled forward, into the darkness.
...
They were in a hotel in Washington, Molly´d said. The Royal Inn. With only these two information Sylar was leading them through the darkness, crossing distances, ignoring time and space, and reached out with his mind for that one spot on earth he needed to reach. Eventually he found the place and with one last mental order, he shoved the curtain aside that separated the world of pure darkness from the world of light, and stepped out of the shadow.
It was a broom closet that provided him with the gate he needed, the first best place he could find that was dark enough. Obviously a little too dark though, because the first thing Shawn did after they got there, was tripping over a bucket, stumbling against the door.
An enormous noise accompanied his fall outside, two brooms, a mop and the bucket that had tripped him, clattering to the floor along with him.
"Dude." he exclaimed, looking up at Sylar, his hands still protectively over his head. "That was not nice." he groaned. "In fact … that was clumsy. Insanely, stupidly clumsy."
"Are you okay?" Sylar gave him a hand, to lift him up.
"Yeah." Shawn stood straight at once and exhaled, loudly. He looked around. "You think they heard that?"
Sylar trained his ears, trying to decide if someone was coming for them, but there was nothing.
"Doesn´t seem so." he found.
"Right." Shawn rubbed his hands together, still panting after this crash landing. "Okay." he nodded. "Now where are we?" He looked at one of the doors along the hallway. „613." he read the number that stood there. "That means we have to get up a few more stories."
Sylar turned to said door, bewildered. But it was true. The number said indeed 613. Just like that faithful apartment in New York so many years ago. Even the form of those numbers were similar and for a second Sylar was startled. As if someone had placed it there only to mock him.
"Molly said they are in room 956." Shawn went on not even noticing Sylar´s puzzlement. He glanced down the hall, to the elevators. "Let´s get up there."
Sylar nodded, following him in silence. When they exited the elevator two stories above, he lay a hand on Shawn´s arm, stopping him. Carefully he peeked around the corner. The hallway was empty.
"No guards." Shawn whispered, leaning out just like him. "That´s … kinda weird. I´d figured they´d be more … paranoid."
"Maybe they just don´t want to raise attention." Sylar looked up and spotted the camera under the ceiling, small and unobtrusive, like it has to be in a hotel.
He raised a hand and holding it out, pressed thumb and index finger together. Under the ceiling the camera crackled and after another moment, failed.
"That´s so cool." Shawn exclaimed, his eyes wide with awe.
When Sylar turned around to him, he smiled, the glimmer in his eyes almost as insane as it had been when they´d started off in Santa Barbara. Maybe that was just how Shawn looked when he was a little more excited than it was healthy for him, Sylar mused and regarding this smile, he wasn´t surprised any longer, over all the danger this guy had gotten himself into over the years.
"What was the number again?" he asked him at last.
"Ah … 956." Shawn answered, subtly raising his hand to his temple while thinking. "But they took a few rooms along this hall. Four in the whole. 954 to 957."
Sylar walked down the hallway, letting his eyes search the doors until he found the matching numbers.
"Molly said, 956 was the one where Nathan and Shana are." Shawn whispered, glancing at Sylar uncertain. "You think they …?" he cleared his throat and gestured for the door.
Sylar didn´t give a response, only smirked, and raised a hand, as if to knock.
"You might wanna step back." he advised the fake psychic. "This could get messy."
Shawn nodded, the awe he felt very obvious in his face, and took a step back. When Sylar activated his hand, making blue lightnings ball up in his palm, Shawn´s brows went up. But the killer didn´t pay any more attention to him. He faced the door and busted it, storming into the room, ready to throw bolts of lightning at everyone who should try to fight back.
But he didn´t get to do anything in there. Because no one was there. The suite was empty.
Sylar took his hand down, killing the lightnings in it. That was weird. He was sure the room was the right one. Shawn had been sure.
"Dude, where are they?" Shawn spoke up, right next to him and Sylar jumped, cursing under his breath.
"Didn´t I tell you to stay put?"
Shawn only frowned at him. "Why can´t I remember you saying that?" he wondered.
Sylar exhaled, shaking his head angrily.
"Maybe they´re in the other rooms." he guessed and went back outside. "Stay here until I checked them." he ordered, making sure that Shawn had heard him this time.
He aimed for the next door, the one across the hallway. His eyes darted behind him, to the other two doors, knowing that if they heard him, they´d come out and attack from behind. He busted the door. But the room was empty as well, just like the suite.
Sylar swirled around at once, expecting Shana´s men to attack. But no one came out of those other doors. He remained where he was, in the door of room 455, and opened the two others both at once, waiting for anyone to come out. Still no one came. What the hell?
"Where the heck are they?" Shawn asked, right next to him and Sylar jumped, raising a hand on instinct. He stopped himself just in time, cursing once again.
"God, dammit, Shawn." he hissed, clenching his fist. "I told you to stay put."
"Until you checked all the rooms." Shawn shrugged. "And now you´re done, aren´t you?"
"I could have killed you."
"Strange." Shawn frowned, thoughtfully. "After being killed a few times, that possibility kinda loses its appeal. That´s really a weird feeling. Maybe Gus is right. Maybe I should talk to a psychiatrist."
Sylar lowered his arm with an exasperated sigh. "Slowly I start to understand why Lassiter doesn´t like to have you around when he makes an arrest."
"Who´s here to arrest anyway?" Shawn held against it. "I mean they´ve all obviously gone out. And …" he held up a plastic card. "They left their keys. Man, that doesn´t make any sense. Why should they do that?"
"Maybe I have an idea." Sylar mumbled, meeting Shawn´s asking gaze. "Parkman."
"Parkman." Shawn repeated. "You mean they got him?"
"No." Sylar looked down the hall, at the four open doors. "I mean, I think, he might have gotten them."
"What? How that?"
Sylar exhaled. "Come with me."
He led Shawn back to the elevator, driving down to the lobby, and approached the reception.
"Excuse me, Miss." he spoke. "The gentlemen from story eight, when did they leave the hotel?"
The young woman in the red uniform eyed him cautiously. "You are associated with them?" she asked.
"I had an appointment with the senator. But he´s not there."
"Oh, the senator left much earlier today." she informed him. "Ehm … around … I´m not sure … nine? Yeah, he was accompanied by Miss Stockwell. I guess they went for dinner or something."
Sylar frowned, turning around to meet Shawn´s gaze. The younger man was as unconvinced about the receptionist´s theory as Sylar was.
"Then Petrelli wasn´t even here anymore, when Hiro went to see Parkman." he deducted, talking in a whisper tone.
"That also means that Parkman didn´t get to see Nathan when he tried it." Sylar nodded.
"Instead he ran into Shana´s bodyguards." Shawn hissed excitedly. "Man, I knew this would go wrong." He halted, thinking this over. "But where are they now?" he wondered. "I´m not getting it."
Sylar´s gaze was at the front door for no particular reason, when a line of police cars rushed by, horns wielding loudly in the streets. Shawn swirled around in surprise at the sound.
"I think, I have an idea." Sylar rasped.
When he made his way to the front door, Shawn followed. The sirens were still echoing through the neighborhood, not fading any longer. So they´d stopped, not too far away from the hotel. The concierge was standing at the door, looking down the street, just like almost everyone on the sidewalk. Sylar turned towards him.
"Is there a bank nearby by any chance?" he asked him.
"Yeah, only two streets ahead." the man answered.
"Dude." Shawn exclaimed. "You don´t actually think they´d rob a bank. Do you?"
Sylar didn´t answer.
...
Gus stopped his car at the curbside, merely ten minutes after he´d circled Shawn´s neighborhood, and killed the engine. For a minute or two he just sat there, behind the wheel and stared at the windows of Shawn´s apartment, dark. Of course, it was night and they´d been told to lay down and rest.
But somehow Gus couldn´t quiet believe that Shawn would have been ready for bed in such a short time. Except if he´d dropped into bed without bothering to get undressed, or showered or anything else. And the way Shawn had looked when Gus had dropped him and Sylar off, he hadn´t been that tired. So the two of them had either never entered the building or … but that second possibility was something Gus didn´t want to think about.
Instead he got out of the car and headed for the front door. He took the second key Shawn had given him and quietly unlocked the door. Inside it was quiet. Gus sniffed briefly, just to make sure he didn´t smell any blood in here, before switching on the light.
No shoes next to the door, no serial killer that slept on the couch, no anything. They weren´t here. So his first guess had been right. Damn, he hated it to be right about Shawn. But he´d known that his friend was up to something. He´d just known.
Cursing in silence he took out his cell phone to call him, to demand that he told him where they were or to come right back and stop bringing himself in danger like a ten year old. But as soon as he heard the signal, Shawn´s phone started ringing on the bureau right next to Gus, making him jump and shriek for a moment. When his heart wasn´t hammering anymore, he put his cell back in his pocket and tried to think.
He didn´t know where they were but he was sure they were heading straight for big trouble. Gus had no idea about Sylar´s tendencies in that regard – he´s a serial killer, who do you try to kid? – but he knew Shawn. And that meant he couldn´t stand here and waste time.
He switched off the light and went back to his car, driving straight back to Henry´s house.