We're all a little Madd here!

Something woke him up. A sound. A feeling. Something. Looking to the other side of the bed, he saw it was empty. Jerking up, he looked around the room. Empty.

 

‘I don’t want to go! Please, don’t make me!’

 

Mohinder?

 

 

What the hell? It sounded like Mohinder was talking to someone. But who? No one had come to the apartment in days.

 

‘Please! Why are you doing this?’

 

Sylar! It had to be! How had he gotten into the apartment without Peter having heard him?

 

‘I didn’t mean too! Please, where are you taking me?!’

 

The voice seemed to be sobbing. Wherever they are, Mohinder definitely did NOT want to be there.   Peter entered the main room, but there was no one there. Grabbing his coat, he ran out the door, down the stairs and outside. Which way did they go?

 

There! That direction! Peter thought as the voices seemed to become louder too the left. 

 

An image of a street sign flashed across Peter’s mind. I know that street! He raced forward, towards the voices.

 

‘Why are we here? Who lives here?’

 

Peter hoped he could find them in time. Whatever Sylar had in mind, it wouldn’t be good for either Mohinder or the boy.

 

‘Please Sylar! He’s just a boy! How can my make me….’

 

I’m not making you do anything. You’re doing this of your own free will. The voice chuckled. It made Peter’s stomach turn.

 

There was another flash of an image. A building not to far away.

 

‘What about his parents? You can’t expect them to just sit there…..’

 

‘No! He’s just a child! I won’t! You can’t make me!’

 

*sob* pleasedon’thurtmemommydaddyhelpmetheboogeymantheboogeymanishere

 

Peter ran up into the building. Climbing the stairs as fast he could he reached the landing the apartment was on. He ran into the apartment, keeping an eye out for Sylar, trying to build up his powers for the battle ahead.

 

What’s keeping you Mohinder? Do it! He’s helpless, he can’t harm you. Petrelli! That man has made you weak! Move! I’ll do it since you can’t! Sylar’s voice snarled.

don’thurtmedon’thurtmepleasei’msoscaredmommydaddy

 

Peter broke into the room. He saw a shadow leaning over the terrified child lying on the bed. Something’s wrong here. Peter’s mind tried to fit the puzzle pieces together, but they didn’t fit right. He could see the child, he could see the shadow but, but… What’s wrong with this picture? ...he looked around the room, bewildered.

 

‘Peter?!’

 

 

The shadow took a step forward, entering the light. 

 

Nooooooo!

 

“Four bodies were found in a Brooklyn apartment late this morning. Sources inform us that they are the newest victims of the serial killer, Sylar. More details at 6. In other news, the body of the man pulled out of the river yesterday has been identified as Gabriel Gray, a watchmaker from Queens. The coroner has ruled it a homicide and placed his death at about 3 weeks ago. If you or anyone you know has any information regarding these murders, please call the New York City Police Department at…”




A/N:  *ducks behind the couch and waits for the hand grenades to be lobbed*

Peter ran up the stairs, two at a time. When he came to the door, he knocked calling out “Mohinder, it’s Peter, I’m coming in.” 

 

Peter entered the apartment. Seeing a shadow in the corner, he carefully went over. Mohinder was sitting, pointing the gun at the door. Peter gently took the gun away from him.

 

“It’s ok Mohinder, I’m here.”

 

With a sob, Mohinder buried his face into Peter’s neck. Something really bad must’ve happened. “Tell me what’s going on.”

 

“You-you PROMISED!”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You promised me that he was DEAD! That he couldn’t come back!”

 

“I don’t understand….who?”

 

“S-S-SYLAR!” Mohinder broke down, sobbing into Peter’s neck. 

 

After Peter had gotten Mohinder calmed down enough to talk, he told him what had happened.

 

“I was wa-watching the news. They said there had been four murders in-in the last week. They attributed it too S-Sylar.”

 

“Are you sure?!” Peter asked surprised. How could he have survived?!  There’s no way! There was too much blood loss…

 

“S-See for yourself. It’s on a-all the local channels.”

 

Peter went and turned on the TV. On each of the local channels, the main story was about the four murders. Special Agent Hanson (Matt’s friend) was saying that there was enough evidence to prove that Sylar was the killer and not a copy-cat. This brought the death toll in the last two weeks to eight. She urged anyone with any information to contact the FBI. Peter turned off the TV.

 

“How?”

 

“I don’t know Peter. I thought you said h-he was dead.” Mohinder was slowly getting control but was still having a hard time.

 

“Come on, let’s get you in bed. It’s late, it’s already…4 a.m.? Wow! I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ll call Matt later and ask him if he can clear some things up for us. Remember, Audrey has a tendency to think EVERYONE is Sylar. She even thought Ted was the killer.” He gave a chuckle.

 

Mohinder just looked up at Peter. Getting up off the floor, he allowed himself to be pushed into the bedroom. Peter helped Mohinder take off his shirt, and gave him a gentle shove onto the bed. He then turned around to leave.

 

“Don’t go!” 

 

“I’m just going to go sleep on the couch…”

 

“Please. Can you stay here until I fall asleep? I…I can’t fall asleep knowing he might be out there somewhere.”

 

“Sure. Just let me grab the chair.”

 

“NO! No, please, will you sit here on the bed? Just so I know that you’re there.”

 

“All right, get some sleep Mohinder.” Peter told him. He quietly sat on the bed, trying not to disturb the other man. After a while, Mohinder fell asleep. Peter shifted, trying to get up off the bed when Mohinder’s hand grabbed his. With a sigh, Peter settled back onto the bed. I’ll just sit here for a while; make sure he’s totally asleep. 

 

Sunlight in his eyes woke him. Disoriented, he looked around trying to remember where he was. It came back with a crash. Mohinder’s apartment, Sylar still alive (how?), four people dead. Rubbing his hand across his face, he looked at the other side of the bed. It was empty. Jumping up, he ran out into the main room, looking for Mohinder. With a sigh of relief, Peter saw him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.

 

“Good morning. Hungry?” Mohinder asked.

 

“Yea, you ok?”

 

With a sigh, Mohinder placed the eggs on a plate and handed it too Peter.

 

“Better, but not great.”

 

They ate in silence. Afterwards, Peter did everything he could to try and keep Mohinder’s mind off of what he had seen last night. He kept the TV off, just in case. After they had eaten lunch, Mohinder lay down for a nap and Peter called Matt Parkman.

 

“Are you sure Matt? I saw him, he shouldn’t have survived.”

 

“We’re sure Peter. There are too many things that weren’t reported in the media that we found at the crime scene. It had to have been him.”

 

“Ok, thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone. He was NOT about to tell Mohinder what Matt had told him. He was too fragile as it was, this news would push him over the edge.

 

“He is still alive, isn’t he?” A soft voice behind Peter made him spin around.

 

Mohinder stood in the doorway, looking even more exhausted then before. Peter thought about lying to him, but then decided that could actually make things worse.

 

“According to Matt there were too many things that only Sylar would’ve known about for it not to have been him.”

 

Nodding his head, Mohinder went and sat on the couch. Peter sat next too him, not saying a word. The two men sat there for the rest of the day, trying not to think about anything. They ate supper in front of the TV watching old sitcoms, not really seeing what was on the screen but just trying to fill the void.

 

Just before midnight Mohinder said he was going to make some tea, which might help him sleep. Would Peter like some? He agreed, it just might be the thing to take the edges off and allow sleep to come for both men. Mohinder handed him the cup of tea, sipping from his own. Peter grimaced as he drank the bitter tasting tea. He usually didn’t drink tea but thought that it might help Mohinder relax more if he drank some. Curling up on the couch, he watched Mohinder turn on the light in the bathroom and enter his room. He’s afraid of the dark, afraid of the boogeyman. Peter thought as he felt himself slip into sleep.