Fireworks ch02

Here's the next part of Fireworks, enjoy!

~PhotoKisser

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Chapter 2
‘What do you do with a half-dead man lying on your couch?’

Mohinder pointed his gun at the chest of the man lying before him. It was the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes and once again just when he was about to pull the trigger he lowered the gun. In little breaks between hesitating to shoot he treated his wounds. The cuts weren’t dangerous but the problem was with the big loss of blood. Even so, nothing was as deadly as it looked. The most mysterious thing was that the place where Hiro stabbed him was healed perfectly. No scar, or anything that would say there was a deadly wound in that place.
A little wooden figure hit Mohinder in the head. The impact was big, but it was not enough to make him unconscious. Well it was already the second time, so he was a little bit more prepared for it than when the first hit took place. Sylar’s powers were going crazy, probably because he was still in a half-conscious state. He was freezing everything and making most of the objects fly around, but that still was better than going nuclear or making everything melt. But the worst thing was that every little sound made him scream in pain.
Mohinder looked at the bandaged man, picked up his phone and dialed a number.

Beeeeep… beeeep…

Nobody answered for a long time but the waiting finally repaid.
‘Bennet? He’s here!’ Mohinder almost screamed to the phone. Nobody replied so he went on with the speech. ‘He appeared in my apartment and then…’ the Indian stopped. The person on the other side of the phone was definitely not Noah Bennet. In fact, it probably wasn’t a male at all, guessing from the fact that he still didn’t hear any shouting on the other side of the phone.
‘I think… you got the wrong number…’ a young woman’s voice came out of the phone.
‘I’m terribly sorry, ma’am…’ Mohinder said glad that the lady on the other side could not see his face blush. He pushed the red button on the portable phone about the same time the girl did.
He looked at the screen. Off course… he dialed a ‘4’ instead of ‘5’… He picked the number again checking it twice, no three times so that he didn’t make a mistake. Of course he had to hurry… His hands were shaking from fear and the cold provided by the half-conscious Sylar lying on the couch. He pushed the green button.

Beeeep… beeeep…

He waited for the other side to pick up the phone.

Beeeep… beeeep…

Finally he could here a ‘click’.
‘He’s here!’ Mohinder screamed.
‘Mohinder?’ a familiar voice came from the other side.
‘That man’s here! He’s lying on my couch, half conscious and oh my god… He’s ruining my house completely!’ Mohinder continued to complain although half of what he said was barely understood by Noah Bennet.
‘What do you mean…? He’s in your apartment?’
‘Yes… I’m freezing to death here! I barely dodge all the things he throws at me!’
‘How come you can call me…? Is he conscious?’
‘I already said – half conscious… I think he’s having a dream or something’
‘OK… first of all stay calm…’
‘How do you expect me to stay calm?’ Mohinder shouted.
‘What is your plan…?’
‘I don’t know… I mean… what do you do with a half-dead man, lying on your couch?’
‘First of all… He can’t stay at your apartment…’ Noah started lecturing Mohinder after the information filtered through his mind and sorted up. Now he could at least tell what happened. From what he understood Sylar fainted into Mohinder’s arms (“how romantic” he thought for a brief moment) and Mohinder put him on his couch. After that Mohinder tried to kill him but has failed since he couldn’t pull the trigger he ended up treating his wounds instead of stopping his heart for eternity. ‘Get him somewhere else…’ Noah said a lot more conscious than the panicking geneticist.
‘I think I know a place’ Mohinder seemed to calm down a bit and think normally. ‘Until I call you please stay with Molly… At least till I make things right here, OK?’ he asked holding his father’s notebook in his hand.
‘OK… ‘
‘Thanks’ Mohinder ended the call. He caught a glimpse of the phone screen. “02:47”… Probably most of the call was his useless mumbling. He looked outside the window on the street, carefully analyzing the amount of yellow cars in the traffic before the building.
A minute later he was standing on the street trying to catch a taxi. Finally a familiar yellow cab stopped before him making him step back a bit. He opened the front door of the taxi.
‘Could you please wait here for a moment, I just need to get my friend’ he said leaning on the door. The driver sighed but didn’t say anything.
Mohinder hurried to his apartment. Sylar already destroyed half of his room, but now it wasn’t anything to be concern with.
‘Please forgive me…’ he said hitting the dark-haired man with an elephant figure. Everything stopped. Now the hard part… He “carried” Sylar, or to be more precise dragged him with big trouble next to him. Once he left the building he went towards the yellow cab waiting for him on the street. He pushed Sylar in and put him in a comfortable position on the soft cushion of the taxi. He was happy he thought of dressing the man in a cap hiding half of his face and sunglasses. He also corrected his coat so that his blood-covered clothes were hidden. Of course he couldn’t find the other shoe so he left it the way he found him. After placing Sylar’s body in the cab he went inside trying to look normally. The driver looked at Mohinder with suspicion in his eyes until he saw his face clearly in the mirror.
‘Mohinder?’ he said smiling. ‘How’s it going? You ready to come back to work? I heard you got some problems at home?’
‘Well things aren’t going well… ‘ Mohinder started, cursing his luck for finding a cab with someone he knew from work. Well… The man named John (he had to find a card with his name) didn’t even appear in his memories. It seemed that although he never talked with anyone everybody still knew him.
‘Where to?’ John asked still looking at the mirror.
‘1146 Trenton Place. It’s in Queens…’ Mohinder answered peeking into his father’s notebook.
After about half a minute of silence the driver continued with his questioning.
‘What’s with your friend?’ he asked.
‘He’s just drunk…’ Mohinder answered quickly, happy that he used alcohol to disinfect Sylar’s wounds.
‘What’s his name…?’ the driver didn’t let his friend (well… Mohinder didn’t actually remember his name or anything… It probably could be called a one-sided friendship) slip away with that little answer.
‘Gab…riel…’ Mohinder answered with hesitation. Of course he made that name up. It was the first word he thought of. ‘Gabriel… Gray…’ he added more certain. The surname was in one of the newspaper articles. A woman with that name was found on the floor of her apartment… Next to her was a picture of a bomb painted from the woman’s blood. The name was quite popular so there was no problem in using it.
The driver continued to ask questions and Mohinder continued to answer them and the responses were mostly made up, like “he hurt himself with a piece of glass”, or “he wanted to celebrate his brother’s diploma”, or “I don’t have a girlfriend!”… Well the last one wasn’t really made up… This way the drive to Sylar’s apartment didn’t take to long.
Mohinder got out of the cab and dragged his unconscious “friend” with him to his home. Just before the door to apartment 1B he placed Sylar on the floor just next to the wall and broke into the room. He put Sylar on a couch and went back and forth in the room for a few times. This time he got a new question. Just what do you do with a half-dead man lying on his own couch?