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The farther I fall I'm beside you
As lost as I am I will find you
The deeper the wound I'm inside you
Forever and ever I am a part of
You and me
We're in this together now
None of them can stop us now
We will make it through somehow
You and me
If the world should break in two
Until the very end of me
Until the very end of you
--Nine Inch Nails, "We're In This Together"
As far as confrontations go the only way it could have been worse is with one of them bleeding to death. In the days and nights that follow, Sylar goes over every visit, every conversation, every gesture again and again in his head. He is trying to find the tell – a moment he missed that would have indicated to him that Mohinder knew all along what he was up to. He needs to be able to recognize that moment so that it does not slip by him again.
Again.
He has been down this road before. He should have known better.
Sylar needs to reevaluate his next moves, but emotions are clouding his brain; thundering in his head over the surprise verbal barrage from Mohinder that he knows he should have seen coming.
No excuses.
Obviously, understandably, Mohinder had been suspicious about his motives when he first showed up after being presumed dead for over a year. But with all those subsequent visits, time spent together with no real show of threat from Sylar, he was certain that Mohinder began to seem almost expectant to see him in the evenings, relaxed even, until that night of course.
No excuses.
Sylar had purposely not sought out Molly and Parkman during this time preferring to focus his attentions and efforts on getting Mohinder onside. The rest would then fall into place. Mohinder was the key. He worries now that this was a miscalculation on his part. Sylar wonders if those months between his "death" and then stumbling upon Mohinder actually hold the answers for whom Mohinder is now. He is certainly not the same person whom Sylar traveled with or lived with briefly under the guise of Zane. He is definitely not the same person who hesitated the first time he held a gun to Sylar's head. This Mohinder is more like the one who performed the spinal tap on him. This Mohinder is more cunning. Hindsight being what it is.
No excuses.
The more he thinks about it the less it seems to matter. That night still happened and he cannot rewrite it. But he can deal with the fallout.
Sylar has no idea if Mohinder has taken off already, a good guess is that he is long gone, but with nothing else to go on Sylar feels he has no choice but to go back to the scene of the crime and begin this hunt again.
********** ********** ********** ********** **********
The next time Sylar finds himself in Mohinder's apartment it looks as if no one has been there in weeks.
Not since their confrontation.
Sylar walks around the apartment looking for clues that will show him where Mohinder has disappeared. Picking up scattered papers, looking in half opened drawers, it is apparent that Mohinder left in a hurry. It is not that the apartment looks ransacked; it looks disheveled, like things have been shifted out of place. It verifies Sylar's observation that Mohinder had been preparing for quite awhile.
Sylar heads further into the apartment. Standing in the doorway to Mohinder's bedroom he hesitates before slowly inching forward and surveying his surroundings. His careful eyes notice bare hangers and messy drawers where clothes are now missing.
Standing in this empty room in this empty apartment there is nothing, like a body after the soul has been removed. This apartment is now the past, an empty time capsule. There are no answers here. Not anymore. There are only more questions.
A floorboard behind him creaks.
Sylar smiles to himself.
"How did I not hear you coming? I know your heartbeat," he says amusingly with a hint of confusion.
He is greeted with silence.
"Did you miss me?" he jokingly asks just as he feels a sharp prick of pain in his neck.
Turning around he stumbles as his self control almost immediately begins to disappear. Mohinder is now right in front of him; needle in hand; the Haitian stands by his side. Crashing to the floor below him Sylar returns his surprised gaze to Mohinder. Sylar's eyes are questioning; Mohinder's eyes are familiar yet unwelcoming. Sylar feels the last ounce of his control slip away from his limbs as if being sucked out through his fingertips and toes by a vacuum. His mind, going numb, is shutting down. Just as a haze starts to slip over his eyes he hears Mohinder, voice filled with anger and remorse, say the words that crash through his skull and take claim of what is left of his mind.
"I miss Zane."
And Sylar's world fades to gray.
That is one possibility; one direction their story goes in.
Or maybe…
********** ********** ********** ********** **********
As Mohinder hangs up the phone he takes a deep breath. Glancing around his apartment he can still feel the tension in the air. Both hands have been played and now they both know where the other stands.
He knows he needs to move fast; there is no time to waste. If Mohinder is lucky Sylar is so shocked by tonight's verbal attack he has skulked off to regroup and lick his wounds. But knowing Sylar he could return any second now. Therein lies the problem; Sylar is unpredictable. There is no telling what his next move will be.
Don't think. Just move.
Mohinder quickly runs around the apartment grabbing the handful of important notes he had strategically placed in a preemptive move to ensure Sylar would not accidentally find them during one of his visits. He rushes to his bedroom to grab the already packed duffle bag hidden under his bed and quickly throws the notes inside. As he begins to head back into the living room he hears a loud crash.
I would have expected nothing less.
In the split second it takes for Mohinder to see that Sylar has not only returned but has used his telekinesis to rip the front door off of its hinges, he finds himself tossed sideways into the wall with a sickening thud.
Mohinder crashes to the floor in pain. As he slowly struggles to get himself upright he sees Sylar slowly stalk across the apartment towards him. Mohinder groans out with conviction, "You're going to have to kill me. I will not help you. I will not let you near Molly."
"Mohinder," Sylar begins, "you should know by now that I never intend to kill you. You're far too useful to me alive. Take it as a compliment. Others are expendable."
Mohinder, pain pulsing through him, looks up as Sylar stands over his body. The look in Sylar's eyes dictates clearly to Mohinder exactly what is going on: Sylar is letting him know where the balance of power lies. And right now, Mohinder has none.
Resistance is futile.
This is the Sylar he has been expecting for months. This is the one who has been laying in wait, lurking beneath cautious conversations and comfortable silences, peaking from behind familiar eyes. Any trace of that other one has been set aside.
Looking up into those blackened eyes Mohinder, again, feels his body forcibly thrown along the floor into the wooden kitchen table. Before Mohinder can get his bearings he sees the subtle flick of Sylar's hand. An assault of kitchen utensils and books comes flying full force at Mohinder's head and body.
"Of course," Sylar continues as Mohinder throws his hands up to protect his face from the objects hurtling at him, "that doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. I'm on a mission and you're not about to derail it. For your sake I hope no one gets in my way. Or you will have to be punished."
The telekinetic onslaught stops.
Mohinder, crumpled on the floor, hands and face bruised and bleeding, closes his eyes and tries to catch his breath. He tries to think about what to do next when he feels Sylar right beside him. Mohinder's eyes fly open and he sees Sylar kneeling down next to him. Suddenly there is a strange tightness at his throat and he can hardly breathe. He instinctively throws his hands to his neck trying to grab at whatever it is that is choking him.
As Mohinder struggles to breathe, to free himself from the invisible grip, he sees Sylar grinning at him.
"Do you think Parkman will be on his way when Molly informs him I've returned?" Sylar asks. "That could be fun."
With that, Mohinder loses consciousness.
Possibly.
Or maybe…
********** ********** ********** ********** **********
Time is a funny concept. It remains the same but the perception of it alters everything. Sometimes it seems to move too fast and the moment is over before one knows how to react. Other times it seems to barely move at all and a moment or thought gets stretched into what feels like an eternity.
It is rarely just right.
Mohinder and Sylar's realities are a collection of these moments. Sometimes their meetings occur at break neck speed, other times they allow for excessive contemplation. There are times when they stand on either side of that line where they are closer than they realize.
Mohinder and Sylar's lifelines keep crossing. Past, present and future, it is written in their DNA or in the stars, depending on ones beliefs. They are chaos theory, blind faith and karma all at once. The circumstances may change, the motives may alter, but in the end it is always the two of them facing off.
It is what is known as a given; an evolutionary imperative; destiny.
Each encounter carries a unique fingerprint. Whether Sylar comes out on top or Mohinder betters him there are always added distinctions, minute alterations that bear significantly on the two men. There is always something to learn for the next time; there is always a next time.
Time passes. Their lives continue to crisscross like an intricate pattern that has been elegantly and precisely placed. They are both far too close to realize it but from up on top looking down there is a method to the madness. They are the beginning and the end and everything in between.
Their story never ends.