seekevolution | Summer

Summer

Though Mohinder didn't buy into the saying that there could be such a thing as love at first sight, the way that Simon Petrelli looked at Molly when they were first introduced made him reconsider and then immediately close his thoughts so Matt wouldn't worry. Mohinder gently pulled her long hair back from her shoulder so his hand could rest upon it, Molly in a bright red and yellow sundress,and said shoulder covered by a small yellow half jacket. They'd both been pleased to find it at Walmart on the drive up from Fort Lee to Maine, taking the long, scenic route even though Peter had offered them a chance to teleport.

Why teleport when they could have more time together and see the country? Molly needed a little break away from enclosed spaces and the forests along their mountain roads in New York and at the southern border of Canada was just the ticket.

Of course, there had been blighted areas, places where the virus had broken out, or worse, where communities had closed their doors and grown violent. They had just guided their black SUV around the problem areas and stuck to rural hotels on the interstate.

Now, standing in the foyer of what looked like another hotel and yet, knowing it was a family summer retreat, Mohinder could feel Molly yearning to go explore...and the eldest of Peter's nephews more than willing to guide her.

They were both the same age. They'd both been without playmates (what nearly twelve year old counts their brother as a playmate?) for a long while. Mrs. Petrelli, gracious despite her furtive glances at Matt, finally gave them the go head. "Show Molly to her room. Gently, Simon. She's not one of your trucks." Molly glanced back up at Mohinder and he nodded.

"I'll come find you shortly."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Peter took a step back with the way Mohinder shifted away from him. They touched a lot in his family so he'd been compelled to offer that out of habit and instinct, but it wasn't what Mohinder wanted or needed, he could see that now. So he stopped. He tried to always take heed of what others were saying to him, in words or without.

"Yeah, maybe ... but look, Mohinder? It's not all your fault. He hurt you, too." He wanted to stress that. Mohinder had a habit of centering himself as the fault of things, that much had been clear from their more frequent talks. But Peter didn't think it was like that. This was something he and Matt both had to work out.

"You're - you can stay here anytime. For as long as you want." He paused, glancing towards Molly's room. He wasn't sure whether he should try to stop Mohinder from leaving or not altogether, but he didn't think it'd be a good idea for them to just go. Not now. "Maybe you should stick around for a day or two. Figure something out. You can't just pick her up and leave just like that. And ... call me crazy, but I don't think you should do anything right now. Just .. take a moment. Okay?"

What Peter said? It made sense. His head ached horribly, he was upset, and Molly still had a few days of summer vacation left. He had a week or two to enroll her somewhere else but this really had to be a decision they made together. She was a child, yes, but incredibly adult too. Mohinder needed her. He needed her now more than ever.

A small smile, completely fake, curled up on his lips as he lowered his eyes to the ground. There were so many shadows in the air.

The darkness wasn't as comforting as he'd expected.

He was destined, he knew, to be alone. He was the happiest alone. Whatever he and Matt had tried to do, it was commendable but it was nothing if not doomed from the start. "Listen, Peter....for what happened tonight between us-- I must have been lonely. I... I hadn't meant to come onto you. You're a wonderful friend. I'm so sorry if I made anything awkward. I... It was a terrible mistake on my part and for that, I take full responsibility."

Peter had no trouble accepting that. He believed Mohinder meant that and moreoever did believe it wasn't something Mohinder had meant to do, not like that. Mohinder might've used past tense but Peter believed he still loved Matt and that Matt loved him. He couldn't say what had caused the break between them and that probably should have worried him more than it did, because he could usually read people pretty well.

Whatever it was, though, Peter knew it wasn't about him. So he smiled, a little. "Don't worry about it. Just let me know if you need anything, alright?"

Like Mohinder had just said - they were friends. He wanted to help, if he could. Much like the way he also wanted to talk to Matt, but he knew that'd have to wait for now.

He hated this place. All the fake smiling, all the pretending that everything was honky-dory and A-OK was like pulling teeth...only seriously a whole less fun. Luke Campbell was constantly told that he was a lucky one. Lucky, he wasn't quite sure how he was suppose to be lucky when he'd been left in a run down greasy spoon by the side of a road no one fucking traveled anymore and ended up having to do a whole lot of really fucking awful things to get where he was today.

When he left Sullivan Bros, he was still in his white and red striped vest and his pant pockets were filled with little bags of kernels he use to delight children with by popping them right in his hand.

He made some good tips.

And on nights that tips weren't so good, he sucked a lot of cock.

It was ridiculous. That wasn't luck.

So when he stormed into a truck stop with twenty bucks and two days worth of hunger, he first thoughts were about hurting people. The attached diner was filled with a lot of fat nobodies. Luke picked his mark easily enough because he was the only dude that didn't look like he might kill him if he propositioned him.

He slid into the booth opposite a scruffy looking guy and smiled fakely at him. "Where're you headed, man? Buy me dinner and take me half way and I'll make it worth your while."

Looks could be deceiving. It was true that Matt looked anything other than murderous - it hadn't been long since he'd left, but the pain was still raw and real, even moreso after a phone call from his daughter and an awkward, uncomfortable exchange of words with Mohinder. No, his hand was in his hair, his eyes distant. There was something defeated about him, at first glance.

But he was still telepathic. He was still on edge and alert and still trying to figure out what he was even doing there and how he'd gotten there. But at the same time, other people's thoughts were a way of getting away from his own.

He'd immediately heard the kid's and what they were centered on. Hurting people. Fucking people too, or rather detached thoughts about being fucked enough times to get out of his own miserable part of life. It was a mix of thoughs Matt didn't want to deal with, but life isn't especially charitable like that, and he ended up staring this thoughts down. They had a surprisingly hard face. The smile was pasted on.

He was practically glaring when the kid tried to chat him up. He didn't have time for this. He didn't want to deal with this. But he couldn't just walk away either, so he sighed and dropped his voice.

"Listen kid, I know what you're thinking. Trust me, I'm not your guy. If you want to wreck yourself, fine, but I'm not gonna help you."

"You know what I'm thinking?" Luke didn't sound impressed, though his mind was alive with potential. The carnival had been filled with people like him. It was suppose to be his new sort of family but he'd figured out early on that it wasn't for him to have a family.

His mom had been more than happy to let him go. She hadn't even called the cops when he stole the car. She was afraid of him, pleased he left after getting blood on the carpet. Blood...and boiled whatever else was in that guy.

It still felt good to think about it.

Dark eyes rimmed in red from sleepless nights and smoke searched Matt's face.

Just take his wallet and run then, he was thinking to himself, almost lazily. When he follows, I'll singe all the hair off of his prick. Lumbering asshole probably couldn't catch me anyhow.

"All I want is a ride, dude. To anywhere. And something to eat. Can't you help a guy out?"

Out of condoms anyhow.

... wow, something was seriously wrong with this kid's mind; something slow and hazy but yet fractured and sharp, and Matt for the first time in a very long time thought about Sylar. He hadn't liked the feeling of his mind. Luke's was different but similarly messed up. Not ... normal.

Matt tilted his head very slightly to the side and his eyes narrowed. He blocked away the others, the stream of thoughts he'd let wash over him, and instead focused on the kid.

He was almost surprised. He'd heard a lot of these kind of thoughts before from punks who thought they were tough, but again; something a bit different about this one.

He grit his teeth at that last thought. God, no. He didn't want anything to do with this guy that way.

"Right. Why don't you tell me how the hell you wound up here anyway, huh?"

Yeah, he'd always be a cop. He was supposed to talk delinquents down, convince them to go home and play nice. Really didn't think it'd work here after everything that had happened in the world, but it was second nature. Assess the damage. See if you can help.

Oh, but how reluctant he was when Luke was thinking of him that way, and his eyes remained wary.

Luke reached across the table to snag a fry from Matt's plate, sucking suggestively on the tip. He didn't like to do it. Sex sort of grossed him out but money was may more important than anything else these days. He couldn't just leave a trail of corpses, boiled in their cigarette stinking flannel shirts and open jeans. It would lead the Company right to him.

The Company. That made him balk and he shoved the fry into his mouth almost viciously. "Thought you knew what I was thinking."

A test for a test? Luke leaned forward. His eyes were almost desperate and he was an open book anyhow. At seventeen years old, he thought even more loudly than Molly.

"Why don't you tell me?"

It was all right there for Matt. Sylar. The agent that he killed. The way he use to egg people on to beat him up. His father's abuse. The carnival--

Anything Matt wanted was right there.

Matt's teeth clicked in annoyance at the way Luke stole the fry. Not because he cared in any way about the piece of potato, but because of the way the kid treated it. Because of what he was thinking. But that kind of thing wasn't all him, either - there was resignation and that share of desperation and Matt already knew that he really didn't have a choice here. He had to try to help Luke out somehow since he'd been pushed this far.

And - yeah. Yeah, he read his mind. Mostly because he hadn't expected it to be offered but even moreso because he hadn't expected Luke to consider his words literally. 'I know what you're thinking' was just as often just something you said. But then ... this guy could boil people from the inside.

Could do that, and laugh about it. To Sylar. Sylar. Everything else clouded over to Matt, became unfocused, and he zeroed in on it in a way that Luke would likely feel even if he hadn't had Matt's sudden look to clue him in on it.

"Sylar", he said in a low tone through his teeth. "You were with Sylar? When?"

Well color a teenage psychopath confused. Sitting back against the tattered and torn seat of the booth, Luke's hands pressed against the table, still a little sticky from a clean up job not well done.

He knows Sylar. Play. It. Cool.

"Yeah dude, 'course I know that asshole," Luke said with an air of a lovesick little girl. He shrugged, trying to pretend it was all just fine. He even put his arm on the back of the booth as nonchalantly as possible.

That...was pretty impossible though.

"Uh-- Why? I mean it's been like a few weeks...we were traveling together and--"

You can seriously read my mind? Okay? That's seriously fucking cool.

Matt had gone from john to target to someone to cling to of sorts. It didn't bode well for the older man. "Well he fucking left me to go see his dad or some shit. What the fuck ever, right? Dude's a freak." A amazing. Shit where he is? "Do you work for that fucktard Company?"

Oh, this was bad. It was beyond bad. It was infuriating and terrifying. Matt shoved the plate with the fries and a third of a burger towards the kid, definitely no longer having an appetite of his own. And what was that - Luke having travelled with Sylar? Sylar hadn't killed him? And Luke was acting like a lovesick puppy. Jesus Christ.

"I can do a lot more than read minds, so don't even think about trying anything", Matt warned him. Yeah, he could do a lot more than read minds. A whole lot more. And this little roadtrip of isolation was supposed to be a way to reign himself in. He really didn't need this, didn't want to have to do something in order to keep Luke in line, but he would if he had to.

And at the question, he couldn't mask the look of distaste even if he'd tried. "No. Okay, kid, you help me out? I might return the favor. Where's Sylar?"

Sylar needed to die. He had to die. For good, this time. That created varying differences, but fortunately, Matt was the only mind reader at the table - although with the way Matt said Sylar's name, Luke might well figure out that Matt was looking for blood.

And he needed to warn - had to get in touch with Mohinder and Molly, make sure they knew and were safe ... get Peter, if he could. It'd be a manhunt. But it'd be for the greater good.

Sylar looking for his father? That didn't seem like a good sign.

Luke seemed to have two options here. One, tell Matt what he knew and be left behind again or two, try to pull the same stunt he had with Sylar, stringing him along until he was sure he'd be taken with. Trouble was that even if they got to the cabin where Samson Gray once told Luke he liked to go, Sylar would be long gone. Samson would too, likely. It had been weeks ago that Sylar had thrown Luke around the diner and left him like a little lost lamb, bleeding and bruised and in the middle of fucking nowhere.

"I don't know where he is," Luke said, deciding to be forthcoming...for the moment. He was still unsure about Matt and even if he was, he couldn't help but lie. He lied for no reason at all. It was ingrained in him. "I know where he was headed. If you're not with the Company then why do you even-- Oh. The whole serial killer thing?"

Luke was very casual about it, picking up the burger and heating it back up without a flinch. Shit. He sucked dick for a meal. Finishing some dude's half eaten sandwich didn't bother him one fucking bit.

"Did he kill one of your friends? Yanno. He's like damaged goods. Seriously fucked up in the head. But hey. If I could do what he could do I would be fucked up in the head too. How is that mind reading working out for you? Are you fucked up too?"

Already Luke had changed his posture to match Matt's.

Edited 2014-04-10 12:36 (UTC)

Matt resisted telling Luke that he was fucked up, because that didn't actually seem very conductive to anything, but he still thought it. But the other reason he didn't say anything was because the question had hit a nerve. He'd sure felt fucked up, that much was certain.

But he was nowhere near what Sylar was. Mohinder might have implied a not yet, but that still meant that he still wasn't. Good enough, he figured. But there were other priorities here than that kind of introspection.

"Even if I was, that's none of your business", he said flatly, not wanting to defend himself to a teenager. Even if it had been more of an honest question than anything accusatory. Matt's reaction had more to do in equal parts the fact that he was asked at all and his reluctance in properly facing what had gone down before this bizarre meeting. Just under two days and he already felt the denial mixed with resignation. "Luke, right? Want to tell me why 'the serial killer thing' doesn't seem to bother you?"

He could figure out why, but he wanted to hear the reasoning.

Not exactly impressed by Matt's show of intimidation (it was hard after all to be intimidated by big men when he could do all sorts of things to them from a distance), Luke just watched him scowl. His attempt to play off a flat faced stoicism wasn't really doing much to impress the teenager either. Luke wasn't trying to push buttons for once, he was simply interested at the man behind the facade questioning him.

"Yeah, Luke. Don't go by that any more actually. My dad's name was Luke too and that prick-- Haha, you know what? Doesn't matter. Luke's fine, whatever." He'd been going by Gabe at the carnival. Little wonder why actually.

He shoved half a plate of fries into his mouth, legs hollow like most teenage boys, and reached for the soda Matt probably wasn't going to touch anymore any way.

"Duh, man. Why the fuck would I be afraid of him? Why would he bother me? We were partners," he lied, but there was some sweet little memory there too.. Luke had gotten Sylar's back...and Sylar came back for him in the end.

Yeah, Matt wasn't going to call him Gabe if he could help it. And whatever name Luke preferred, Matt wasn't actively trying to intimidate him, it was just something ingrained. Come to think of it, it had probably settled properly when he'd been Luke's age; only way to make people take him seriously.

Which is what made him figure that Luke acting so flippant might be a way for him to shield the world away or try to scare it off. Well, assuming he wasn't fucked up. There was still something so very off in his mind that couldn't possibly be something positive.

"Sylar doesn't have partners", Matt said pointedly, watching the kid eat. "Sylar? Is a sick fuck who kills people like you."

Yeah, he could sense the memory, was tapping into it, but couldn't quite believe what he saw there. Luke could've very well made it up. He got these puppy dog eyes when talking about Sylar and that was disturbing, if both tragic and confusing.

"Sylar's a sick fuck, I'll give you that," Luke said, smiling with as much horrible charm as Sylar himself. That grin was not Luke's own, it was the mirror image of the one Sylar had given to Matt when he teased him about liking the way Mohinder sounded when he was in pain. "But he's got a reason. It's survival of the fittest. You do what you do because it's like literally who you are. Same with me. Same with him. It's like being mad at a killer whale for munching on a Seaworld trainer or some dolphins. Shit man, it's what he does."

And if Sylar didn't have partners, how did Matt explain Luke? If Sylar ate people like him for lunch, why was Luke eating his dinner right now, inhaling it faster than anyone ought to be able to?

The last fry was drenched in ketchup and Luke flagged down the waitress to get a chocolate milk. He hadn't been talking low enough really and she'd heard him going on about killers. It did not endear him to her and she had half a mind to call the police. It was on a loop in her mind as she stared at Matt for the OK on the milk.

Luke ignored her.

"I'm still here, dude. Here and happy. Hello there. Sylar might be a killer whale and I might just be some seal or penguin but you know what? He saw something in me. Bet you can too. You're a lot like him. I can tell."

Matt hated that smile. Really, truly hated it, because it took him a while to place even if it unnerved him, but recognising it didn't take any edge off it at all. It was nowhere near as effective in Luke's face, of course. But the reminder was there and made the whole thing real. Sylar's reappearance. Fucking hell.

Keeping his eyes firmly on Luke, Matt mentally kept pace with what he was saying, confirming every word with facts right there in his head. He really didn't have a problem, was the verdict. Really didn't care, really thought about it that way.

What was he supposed to do with this kid? He was a nutcase, but Matt wasn't sure why or how, and he was dangerous, but he also had information. Matt knew what he'd have to do, which was keep an eye on him for the time being, but what to actually do with him, how to treat him? That'd be a little mystery all on its own.

He did know one thing, though - it probably wouldn't do them any good to get the cops in there. He did it reluctantly, but he eased the woman's mind and okayed Luke's order.

Kid was dangerous. He might very well kill if he felt cornered - or just for the heck of it - and Matt didn't want any unnecessary attention drawn anywhere near this location with Sylar out there.

And then he almost made her call the cops anyway, when Luke provoked him like that.

Matt bristled. Immediately. Hackles raised, lips pulled back in half a snarl, his hands pressed against the surface of the table.

"I'm nothing like him", he growled, and then snapped, "and if that's what you want from me, I want you out of my sight. Now."

"Dude, all I want from you is this sandwich, that chocolate milk and a ride to wherever it is you want to leave me." He didn't have any expectations beyond that. "If you want me to help you find Sylar? That I can do. But you have to give me food." He didn't bring up the innuendo again. Luke was beyond asexual but he knew that sometimes you had to trade pieces of yourself to get ahead. He could lay back and get fucked or give a handjob if he had to, but he'd rather not have to.

The emotions he had for Sylar might be love and even some sort of misguided affection but it was not sexual. It was so much more than physical. It was almost spiritual.

"So calm yourself down, lard pop. It was suppose to be a fucking compliment anyway."

The waitress returned a few minutes later with the chocolate milk and put it down hard enough that it sloshed a little over the glass. She didn't apologize, she just fled.

Dark, evil thoughts crept up in Luke's head. He'd gotten very good with his abilities. Plastic melted. Water boiled. Hair? Hair smouldered.

Pubic hair smouldered the best. He smirked at the thought, lifting his hand as Sylar did.

Matt immediately reached out and slammed Luke's hand down with his own with enough force to shake the table. Keeping him trapped there, he was in his face half a second later, leaning forward and staring Luke down, forcibly keeping eye contact as he planted the thought.

You don't want to hurt her. You don't want to hurt anyone in here. You can't hurt them. You won't.

It was nowhere near as subtle as he could've made it, but Matt wanted Luke to know that he'd had his thoughts and intentions rearranged. Might make him think twice about it all. Hell, might make him watch his tongue.

Because Matt's patience was already wearing thin. A compliment? No. No, no such thing. Being likened to Sylar could never be positive and hit too many nerves right now for Matt to even want to touch, even to reject the idea. He wanted nothing about it in his head. Nothing.

Leaning back into his chair as he released Luke from his hold, he crossed his arms over his chest and let that hard look turned into an outright glare, but said nothing. Waited to see how Luke would take to that particular trick.

Luke was in utter, absolute awe of Matt. His breath caught in his throat as he blinked up at the much older man, almost as if he could not believe what was happening. And, truly, he couldn't. Being made aware of what Matt was doing was like frosting on a cake. He'd thought the telepathy was cool, but it was so much more. It could be things even Sylar couldn't hope for.

"Dude, that's... Jesus, that's seriously amazing. Why the hell are you sitting around in this stupid diner? You could literally be doing any fucking thing you want! If I had that power I would be ruling the fucking world."

No, actually. That wasn't what Luke would be doing. He'd be tracking down Sylar and forcing the man to stay with him. To teach him.

As pathetic as it sounded in the kid's head, all that Luke wanted was to be accepted. Not changed. Just understood.

Matt rolled his eyes, crossing his arms tighter, shielding himself from the very idea. "Yeah, well, did you take a look at the world lately?"

It wouldn't be much to rule, all torn up and still not recovered from the virus. Not that Matt had ever had that aspiration and would ever strive for domination. While Luke just wanted to be accepted, Matt just wanted to have peace, and there would be no peace in ruling anything.

Not to mention how scary it was, having all of that in his head. He could do any fucking thing he wanted. That was the problem.

Luke, thinking about Sylar again, refocused his attention on him. He wasn't actively listening, but he kept an ear out. The name was there too often. Maybe not in a thought word, but still the imprint of it, the touch of it in Luke's head.

"When I find Sylar, I'm putting him down", Matt said darkly. "I'll take that over ruling the world any day."

No bitterness, no distress...there was nothing at all about Luke that signaled that he would be angry at Matt for 'putting Sylar down.' There wasn't even a thought about how he might save him as he had at the diner. Luke had grown from a troubled kid to a murderer to sideshow carnie much, much too quickly. Sylar had liberated him but also left him.

Just like his dad did. Just like Sampson Gray did. Just like his mother wished she could.

"You do what you have to do," Luke replied with a shrug. "I don't think he'll be that easy. I saw him take a dozen bullets and keep on dancing. I mean, even if you could make him do anything you fucking wanted, you'd have to get to him first. Is that even possible?"

He sort of wanted it to be.

Sylar should get hurt for leaving him. They would have been so good together.

"So what's the deal, dad? What can I do to help you out?"

Okay. So at least Luke didn't have a misguided allegiance to the psychopathic serial killer he'd briefly idolized. That helped, even if it was still kind of ... not concerning, Matt had no right calling it that. But there was something very disconcerting about Luke's complete lack of interest or response.

Or wait, it wasn't complete. There was that notion of punishment. And the detachment it had made it even spookier.

But Matt wasn't truly on edge until Luke called him dad, even if he couldn't figure out why the hell that struck a nerve. He just knew that it did.

"It's Matt", he said immediately, but not without some reluctance. He didn't particularly want Luke to be familiar enough to start using his name in the way Matt had a feeling he would, but there was no way he'd let him come up with his own nicknames like that. "The deal is, you help me put and end to the son of a bitch, you get fed. That's about what you wanted, isn't it?"

Matt. Luke preferred that to 'dad' anyhow. His father was a piece of shit and if he knew where he was, he'd probably slowly cook him. The thought, unlike the others revolving around violence, did not make Luke smile. There was a trigger point there. Should Matt wish to find it, he would, easily.

Sometimes it was just better not to get involved with the minds of the criminally insane, however.

Luke finished his milk before looking up and shrugged. "We're both going to die," he said plainly enough. "Both of us. And slowly. I've never seen him do it, whatever it is that lets him do what we do, but I know it's a bloody mess. And I know he likes to play with us first."

Sylar already admitted that when he told Matt he loved to listen to Mohinder cry.

"But hey, if you're game, I'm game. I can keep your coffee warm too and we don't even have to wait in line for the microwave if we want those stupid burritos at gas stations."

Matt noticed, but didn't dig for any details. So there was something with the father. Honestly? It hardly surprised him. Seemed like everyone he'd run into since his whole mind thing had started had daddy issues, himself included.

And similarly, yeah no, what Luke was telling him about Sylar wasn't news. Matt's first touch with this crazy reality he found himself in was through him, through an impaled woman and a frozen man with his brain removed. Yeah, it was a bloody mess. But guess what? Matt had survived three brushes with that psychopath.

So fate or whatever seemed to be sticking up for him. At least for the moment.

"Right", he said after a moment, not bothering to tell Luke what he was thinking about. "Great. Look, I'm gonna make a call. Here's twenty. Make sure you pay."

He underlined that with a sharp look but no suggestion, wanting to see how Luke would perform given a task. That, and he still didn't want to rely too much on what he could do. Not after how easily it had turned so very damaging.

He hauled his cell phone out of his pocket and went outside, after some hesitation trying Mohinder's cell first. He got no answer, something that left him feeling a little more hollow and he leaned against the wall with a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment when he got to voicemail.

He didn't leave a message.

Instead he called Peter, or more accurately, the Petrelli home. Simon answered. He sounded sad.

"Hey, Simon. You wanna put your uncle on for me?"

Simon sighed but said his okay, and Matt waited for a few moments with a nervous energy drawing through him now when he had to focus, think. He pushed away from the wall and was pacing again.

"Peter", he said as soon as he heard the younger man's voice, barely waiting for him to actually greet him. "Peter, we've got a problem. Sylar's alive."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject