Mohinder paces wildly, unable to wheel in his emotions. It has only been a few hours since he kicked the murderer out of his apartment and yet it feels like years have passed. The sudden loneliness he feels is overwhelming, he hadn't expected that. He feels a myriad of emotions- anger, regret, resentment, betrayal, and as much as he wants to deny it, he's still in love with the man he once knew as Zane.

"Sylar," he hisses, reminding himself that what he feels is based on a lie.

The gun flickers in the fading sunlight, catching his eye. He swoops down and picks it up, feeling the weight of it. For some reason it feels lighter than it had only a few hours before, he doesn't want to analyze the reason why. He tucks the gun into his pants as a precaution and he freezes as he considers his actions. Frowning, he realizes that the bullets wouldn't cause him any harm and he tosses the gun away. It's useless.

He glances at the phone and he wonders who to call. What would he say? He has no idea where he has gone- if only he kept up the illusion, the farce that Sylar had created. But he had been too angry, too hurt to see beyond his own betrayal. If only- he groans, running his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as the pressure headache continues to pound. If only he had kept him here, he could have studied- he could have finished his father's work. If only.

"If," Mohinder sighs, shaking his head as he leans against his desk. Then perhaps he could have called the authorities and had Sylar arrested, taken away. He had no one to call- he had nothing to go on.

A piercing ring echoes in the stillness and he reaches over and answers the phone. "Doctor Mohinder Suresh?" A gruff unfamiliar voice asks and he stiffens at the tone.

"Speaking," he replies quickly, his heart speeding up with uncertainty.

"I believe we have a common bond," he continues. "Your father's work-"

"Who is this?" Mohinder demands, his words clipped as he stands back up.

"I'm from Primatech," He drawls and Mohinder flinches, the name all too familiar.

"I have nothing to talk to you about," he stresses.

"I disagree," he insists.

"You have the luxury of knowing who I am," Mohinder states as he begins to pace once more. "But, I don't know who-"

"Thompson," he replies dryly, cutting him off. "We need your help."

"Why would I help you?" He questions harshly. "My father-"

"Is not available," Thompson hisses. "We need your expertise."

"No." Mohinder snorts hanging up the phone. In a way he wants to help where his father has failed, but then again he has no reason to trust the company that had placed his father in jeopardy. He knows he's being too rash- his emotions are getting the best of him and he knows the real reason he said no is because he feels like a failure.

The phone rings once more and he picks it up, his anger mounting once more. "I told you no," he states harshly, pausing for Thompson to reply, but is only met with silence. "Hello?"

"Mohinder," a voice that has been haunting him replies instead and not Thompson's dry voice. His heart squeezes painfully and he forgets to breathe. "I need your help."

"Sylar?" He gasps, unable to let himself believe that it's him.

"I think I'm going to do something bad," he whispers after a strained pause and Mohinder swallows hard.

A million things pop into his head, but he only voices one. "You're a murderer, you don't get the luxury of regret."

"You don't understand." Sylar replies hastily. "I think I'm going to kill a lot more people." He pauses, exhaling sharply. "A lot more. I understood it before- the killing. I had a reason. To take what others didn't deserve. It was natural selection."

Mohinder blinks, shaking his head, unable to understand his cryptic voice. "What are you talking about?"

"An apocalypse. A massacre. Half the city gone in an instant. They mean nothing. They're innocent. There's no gain, so why would I do it? What possible reason could I have for killing so many?"

Mohinder freezes, urging himself to call for help, to do something. "Wait, listen. You don't have to. If you're truly repentant about what you've done, turn yourself in."

"It was a mistake to call."

"No. Wait, Sylar-" he gasps as he holds onto the phone tightly, needing him to continue. "Zane."

Sylar exhales sharply, "I need you."

Mohinder's heart gives pause and he nods. "Yes," he whispers. "Where are you?"

Sylar rattles off an address and hangs up. Mohinder blinks, the address sounding vaguely familiar. He glances up at his map and shivers, suddenly realizing why. He has led him to another victim.

His heart aches and he feels even more conflicted, Sylar's words haunting him. "I could have given it up for you." Could he have given it all up? Did he force his hand?

Mohinder swallows hard, the implications overwhelming.

Before he realizes what he's doing, or to second guess his actions, he finds himself at the address Sylar has given him. He pauses momentarily at the door before he opens it and lets himself in.

"You came," Sylar states from across the room and Mohinder turns to him. For a second, everything snaps back into place and it's as if nothing had happened. The desire to kiss him overrides every other sense in Mohinder's body and he freezes in his place.

"You asked me to," he simply states as Sylar crosses over to him and suddenly he's being kissed. Mohinder responds eagerly, unable to push him away, his body aching for more.

"You're not armed," Sylar smirks against his lips and Mohinder groans, pushing him away.

"Not that it would have worked," he remarks as he turns away from Sylar's intense gaze, trying to calm the lust that seemed to override his logic. He glances down, immediately feeling bile rise in his throat as he notices the slain body on the ground. "Oh, god."

"He welcomed it," Sylar whispers into his ear. "He didn't even put up a fight," he adds softly. "You would have liked him."

Mohinder pales, doubling over as he throws up what little he ate that morning. He angrily wipes at his mouth as he feels Sylar's hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. "Don't." He gasps as he struggles to stand, pushing Sylar's hand away. "This was a mistake."

Sylar chuckles as he glances back to the door. "Then where are the police?" He muses as he walks past him and back into the center of the room. "Why are you here, Mohinder?"

Mohinder takes pause, unable to answer him. He stumbles over his feet as he makes his way over to Sylar, gasping as he stands before the many canvases. "You painted these?"

"Yes," he nods as he traces his fingers over the fresh paint. "I can paint the future."

Mohinder balks, staring at the images before him, his thoughts racing as he recalls Sylar's cryptic phone call. "This isn't you," He states as he points to the man in the painting. "You're not the cause."

"It's not that simple," Sylar snorts as he waves his hands in the general direction of the painting. "I have to take his power-"

"No," Mohinder protests, grabbing Sylar's hand and directing his attention back to him. "You don't."

"Then why did I paint it?" He questions sharply. "If I'm not the one that takes his power and-"

"No." Mohinder cuts in, shaking his head. "It's a warning. We'll leave-"

"We?" Sylar questions far too eagerly, unable to suppress the smile at the notion of leaving with him.

Mohinder takes pause, not realizing he had included himself in the scenario. He glances at the destruction painted before him and he knows what he has to do. "We," he emphasizes. "Should go- we can leave tonight."

Sylar nods, smiling brightly. "Where are we to go?"

"Does it matter?" Mohinder shrugs and glances down at their entwined fingers, forgetting that he had taken his hand only moments before. "As long as we're together," he whispers, chuckling at his own words. "How clichéd-" he remarks as he finds himself in Sylar's embrace and he suddenly forgets how to breathe.

All he can feel is Sylar's hands on him, his kisses. Deep down he knows that this is wrong, but he knows that he can save millions by taking him away- it's a simple justification and he wonders how long it can last.

The End