~PhotoKisser
***
Chapter 8
"You were helping the enemy..."
Earlier
Mohinder looked with a bit of panic at Sylar’s unconscious body. It took some time for him to recover from the shock. Just enough time for the man who hit Sylar to appear out of thin air and for Bennet to start searching for something in the kitchen.
Although Mohinder knew exactly what just happened the reasons were unknown to him. Why did Sylar stop? It was for just a brief moment but enough for the metal pole to hit him. Sylar was going to hit the man behind him into a wall. He was going to make him suffer. He was going to kill him… But for some reason he stopped. For a brief moment the killer’s spark in his eyes disappear giving space for shock and panic. It seemed that he neither did know what happened.
‘Mohinder!’ a familiar voice brought him back to the real world. The Indian turned around to see Bennet holding two cups of tea and giving one to him. ‘You used something the last time to stop his powers… Where is it?!’ he asked calmly.
‘What!?’ Mohinder replayed with bitterness in his voice. ‘Do you have any idea what I am going through… I-I…’ the Indian tried to continue but the pressure Noah created just by looking at him restrained him from doing that. ‘It’s in the chest. In that room…’ he added with resign. ‘But I really think it’s not such a good idea to –‘
‘Thanks’ Bennet forcefully pushed the cup in Mohinder’s hand and already left to find the drug.
Mohinder looked around taking a sip of the drink. He felt a bit more relaxed after it so he quickly took another one. He went towards the couch seeing Sylar on the floor as he walked passed him. The Invisible man who was hit him has again disappeared, probably waiting for Bennet’s instructions, or just trying to hide still in shock after seeing the killer’s eyes. Mohinder experienced that look just once. It was enough for him for the rest of his life.
A small notebook attracted his attention. He picked it up and started browsing it. The first pages were blank, with only several, little, unimportant notes. Later the notebook was filled with a few sketches, like the ones people make while they are waiting for something. Simple drawings, mostly made by a pen, or anything that was in their reach. But these ones were different. They had something in it that was missing in other sketches. They were true.
All of them put together seemed to make a kind of story. The first one represented a man lying on a floor and another one falling on him. Both of them had dark hair, and their eyes closed. The first one wore a black, buttoned shirt with long sleeves and tight trousers with the same color. Mohinder recognized Sylar, even though he couldn’t see his face. The second person in the picture had a light shirt on him and it became obvious that he was looking at himself. The next drawings represented them being imprisoned and tied to chairs, both unconscious. The last one was unfinished. It had only Mohinder on it and two bullets right before his forehead.
The Indian’s heart started racing as he raised his head and looked around him. There was one thing he could be certain of. He couldn’t show these to Bennet.
Quiet and calm footsteps started approaching him.
He quickly ripped the last, unfinished page and pushed it in his pocket. The notebook ended up being thrown on the couch with panic as Mohinder turned around in the last moment, just to find Bennet standing before him.
‘Listen I need to talk to you…’ he started. The man must’ve taken everything wrong.
‘Now’s not the time…’ Bennet cut him off.
Mohinder felt a bit dizzy. He grabbed the arm of the couch to get his balance back but it didn’t help. He dropped the cup and started falling. It all felt slow for him.
‘I’m sorry to do this to you… but… we have no choice… You were helping the enemy…’ he heard as he was falling to the ground.
At first he panicked. But for a brief moment, just before he lost his consciousness, he understood. All he needed to do, all that happened, everything.
His eyes closed. Everything became blur, and then black. All the sounds became one and also disappeared. And then… There was nothing.
‘Noah…’ the man heard a voice with an Irish accent. ‘Did we really have to do this?’
‘Why are you asking me that?’ Bennet answered barely concentrating on what Claude said since his all attention was focused on a small notebook.
‘This guy… He’s dangerous…’ the man said.
‘I know… that’s why we need to stop him…’ Bennet answered calmly, hiding his own fear deep inside him. It was his self-defense against it.
‘Noah, I’m serious!’ Claude panicked. It wasn’t how he normally acted. Usually he would just stay calm, help Bennet with the bodies and stay quiet. Sometimes he laughed and tell the best parts of the mission in the car, made fun of the mistakes people did while trying to defend themselves. ‘He was going to kill me! I saw it! And he knew I was there!’
‘I know… But that’s exactly why we need to defeat him now!’ Bennet said, trying his best just to make Claude stay.
‘Then do it yourself…’ the man answered disappearing. Soon the door to the room opened.
‘Please!’ Bennet said. ‘I can’t do it without you…’ he added after a while.
The door closed, but instead after a few seconds the cups and other things in the kitchen move, disappear and appear all the time.
‘Guess I’ll need to get used to you again…’ Bennet said smiling.
He started preparing everything to tie Mohinder and Sylar so that they couldn't run. He knew it was impossible for the Indian to be the bad guy, but in this case he couldn’t take that chance. There was too much at stake. More lives would be probably swallowed by Sylar. People would think: “why those people? What’s connecting them?” and the secret about people with abilities would probably get out into day light. But that was the smallest problem. It was simply obvious that as soon as Sylar was free he’d go after Claire. And Bennet wasn’t going to let that happen.
Once the duck tape was tightly wrapped over Mohinder’s and Sylar’s ankles and wrists and attached to the arms of the chairs and also the drip was pinned into the killer’s vein along with the drug in it, Bennet and Claude waited. Short dialogs between them were quickly ended with long and uncomfortable silence. The thing they both wanted to say was stuck in their throat, unable to calm out. They were partners again. After what had happened it was almost like a miracle.
‘You think it’s going to work?’ asked Claude finally pushing the conversation forward. Both of them knew what he was talking about.
‘Mohinder said he couldn’t use his powers. At least at the beginning’ Bennet replied sitting behind the desk and looking through computer files in Mohinder’s laptop. For Claude it was awkward. It was usually him, who gave orders and answered questions. Now, it seemed that the man who was earlier scared about so many was in full control, as if he never did anything different than his job. As if his whole life was a training. And he, Claude, was not capable of doing almost anything except watching the prisoners. He smiled grimly at the thought.
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