Claire is the first to react as the change takes hold of Nathan. She steps forwards and grabs Peters arm, forcing him back as his brother’s body seizes before them all. Matt steps back, either out of shock or because he’s done all that he can, out of the way.

   Nathan’s entire body lifts up off the chair as something takes hold. A strangled yell escapes his lips- it takes every ounce of her strength to not rush to him; it takes her and Mohinder’s combined strength to keep Peter from going over there.

   He thrashes in the chair, hands going to the arm rest and digging his fingers in. His eyes are squeezed shut and she’s not sure he’s breathing anymore. If it were anyone other than Matt she would be demanding to know what he did.

   Then it happens. Nathan’s image distorts, at first she thinks it’s her imagination, something only she sees but Mohinder makes a strangled sound from the other side of Peter and she knows that they can see it too.

   The hair changes, the face, bone structure; she watches with a morbid fascination as the clenched fingers warp and change. Her father is literally disappearing before her.

   “Nathan.” Peter almost cries out, but furiously bites down on his own lip before the sound can travel. The person sitting in the chair is most definitely not Nathan Petrelli.

   The body shakes all over and then their head tilts back as they gasp, finally taking a breath of air. It’s all over in under a minute. The body sags back into the chair, slack and unmoving.

  “Is he alive?” Claire barely dares to ask. She’s not sure how a body could survive that twice- but then again look at her.

  Mohinder breaks from whatever spell is holding him and cautiously steps forwards; she’s not sure if he’s brave or just reckless. He pauses next to the chair and without looking at any of them, reaches out a shaking hand to rest on the mans neck. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for.

   “Steady pulse.” Mohinder murmurs, eyes wide with amazement. It seems odd to see it on his face after the past few months.

  “So what now?” Matt asks. “It’s not like we can leave him here. You’ve just unleashed a serial killer on the world again. A jail isn’t about to hold him.”

   Peter slips to his knees next to her, his eyes glued to the spot where his brother had sat minutes before. She’s not stupid, she knows what this all implies but she can’t believe that it’s true. After everything they’ve been through- it can’t be true.

    “Where’s the real Nathan?” Peter asks, and Claire knows that all of her healing powers cannot fix her friend.

   “Peter-“

  “Don’t tell me I don’t want to know!” Peter snaps, fury colouring his features. He finally looks at Matt and she sees the man flinch. This is the darkness that Peter has kept hidden from them. “Where is Nathan?”

   “Storage shed. Bennet had him frozen.” The choice of words twists her stomach and makes her want to run to the nearest bathroom but she holds it together. Peter needs them to hold it together.

    “Why would anyone ever do this?” Mohinder asks from where he still stands next to the unconscious form. His hand has landed on one of the pale arms, it’s like he’s protecting him. Claire’s not sure what to make of this.

   “Sylar killed Nathan,” Matt glances around the room at them, like he’s trying to convince himself it was the right thing to do, again. “And the world couldn’t handle a special killing a senator.” He’s right, some distant part of her knows this- it doesn’t mean that she can’t feel fury and mourning.

   “Bennet had Nathan frozen?” Claire glances at Peter questioningly. Matt nods and takes a step back when Peter suddenly climbs to his feet. He crosses the room to the person, still unconscious in the chair and grabs one of his hands. He’s copying his powers she realizes with a start. She doesn’t know which one though.

   “Section 26.” Matt seems to know where Peters thoughts are headed. “There are guards.”

   Peter simply says, “Good.” Then beckons for Claire to follow him; they have a plan.

DI

  He wakes up, his head pounding and he has to wonder what he drank before going to bed. But wait- that’s not right, he doesn’t drink that often, or that much. Then he wonders where he is, his neck is at an awkward angle and everything hurts- it’s of no major concern, he can heal everything in a matter of seconds, but still.

   The ability you stole.

   There are voices, speaking quietly nearby. He waits silently for them to notice that he’s awake and in the meantime uses the opportunity to search for information about where he is.

   “What happens when he wakes up?” He remembers the past few months, remembers being trapped in his own body while Nathan Petrelli paraded around in it. It makes him furious. And Parkman was the one that did it to him.

  What are you going to do? Kill him? That won’t help.

   “I don’t know.” Mohinder. Some of his blood lust subsides for a moment. Mohinder is there; he clears his thoughts for a moment and quickly determines where the other man is in the room. He probably sits on a nearby couch, body turned towards him, tense. Mohinder does often appear tense, Sylar can think of quite a few fun ways to cure that.

   Mohinder- it appears as though they were destined to meet again. Perhaps this was enough to get the other man to believe in their destiny.

   “He’s awake.” Leave it to Parkman to be slow on the uptake.

   “Sylar?” He lifts his head slowly, feeling stiff and torn muscles heal as he quickly cracks his neck. Then he smiles. Parkman squares his jaw and gives him a look of utter loathing but Sylar’s only interest in him is the revenge he plans to exact for making him a prisoner in his own body. 

 You didn’t know who you were.

   Mohinder watches him carefully from the couch as he makes a show of testing one restraint, then another, that keep him bound to the chair. He’s rather certain that he could break free in an instant. For the moment he entertains the two men in the room.

   “Mohinder.” He greets, somewhat pleasantly. He’s oddly excited to see Mohinder. There are a flurry of feelings running through him- with annoyance he realizes that for a moment he had begun to forgive Parkman for what he did.

   “Do you remember what happened?” Oh, he remembers. Remembers months of being close enough to Mohinder but unable to touch, unable to claim what is rightfully his. Months of being another person and not realizing what was his was right in front of him. He should probably feel more upset about the fact that he was essentially another person for awhile; that had been exactly what he had been trying to avoid.

  But you liked not being Sylar for awhile, didn’t you?

   “Yes.” It’s still hard to tell the memories apart. Nathan Petrelli’s death; that was him- he had been rather pleased with it too but now he feels something, something odd that twists in his stomach and makes him feel sick. His healing abilities aren’t working on it. It’s guilt.

  But then he has memories of flying, which was entertaining but he could do in his own way, and of snow globes and of a car accident. The latter has to be Nathan Petrelli’s, his driving is impeccable.

   “Nathan?” A voice calls from the hall. He nearly calls back. Sylar can pinpoint the exact moment that the car screeched to a halt in front of the old house. The brakes are going to wear out rather quickly if he keeps that up. He entertains the thought of cutting the breaks but it seems juvenile.

   The doors burst open as Bennet comes rushing in; Sylar can’t say he’s surprised to see a rather familiar gun in his hand. He’s fairly sure that it was used to kill him once. Always the Boy Scout.

   “What have you done?” He asks, taking in the room quickly before leveling his gun on Sylar. For a moment it looks like Mohinder is going to step between Sylar and the gun before he remembers the other mans healing abilities. It is a nice thought though.      “Made things right.” Mohinder stands his ground, squaring off against Bennet. For a moment it looks like Bennet is going to have a heart attack, Sylar rather enjoys the sight.

   “You traded a senator for a serial killer and that’s making things right?” In the big picture it does seem a little twisted but he isn’t complaining. Something passes over Bennet’s face as Mohinder refuses to give an inch. “We need to stop him before he can get started again.” And Bennet calls him a murderer. The gun is leveled on him again and he uses his peripheral vision to seek out the largest antique he can drop on the man. Something…cartoon-ish.

   “No.” Mohinder steps in the way of the gun this time and Sylar wants to point out that he’ll just come back if they kill him, well, so long as no one figures out where he moved his off switch to. “You will not touch him.”

   “Move out of the way Mohinder.” Bennet stares coldly at him and Sylar realizes that Mohinder may have pushed Bennet too far. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

  You’re just going to let Bennet hurt him to get to you?

   Sylar tenses. Mohinder is his. His to own, to claim and Bennet will not touch him.

   Tic-tock.

   Something cold and dangerous blankets him. The bonds that hold him come undone and he stands- they’re helpless against him.

   Tic-tock.

   He is the monster in the dark that Nathan Petrelli has been dreaming about.

DI

   “You don’t want to do that.” The voice comes from directly behind him, low and dangerous and one he’s spent months dreaming about. Bennet and Matt’s eyes widen and he knows the comment is not directed at him. It sounds like a suggestion, something carelessly tossed out; he hears the order beneath the words.

   A hand lands on his shoulder and to his frustration he finds himself both tensing and leaning into the touch. Sylar chuckles from behind him, low in his throat and ‘hmms’. Then suddenly Mohinder cannot move.

   He struggles as he realizes what has happened but his muscles refuse to cooperate with him. Sylar steps past him, carelessly dragging his hand over Mohinder’s shoulders and down his arm, sending shivers through him, then with a flick of his wrist throws Matt against one wall where he remains stuck and Bennet to the ceiling. He stands back, inspecting his work.

   Mohinder isn’t sure what to make of this. He feels betrayed; but the worse part is he’s not even sure what right he has to feel betrayed. All of his dreams, fantasies, they hadn’t been real- why would Sylar be anything like the man clouding his thoughts?

   Matt just barely twists his head and shoots Mohinder a confused look, his voice echoes through Mohinder’s head.

   ‘You-‘

   ‘Don’t say it.’ Mohinder viciously thinks and focuses on blocking Matt from his thoughts.

   “You’re making a huge mistake.” Bennet informs Sylar from his position on the ceiling; his glasses tumble off the tip of his nose to land on the floor.

   “You’ve been a naughty little boy.” Sylar informs him, raising one finger and waving it back and forth; it looks like he’s scolding an animal.

   “Sylar.” Mohinder tries to get his attention and it works, his focus is instantly on the frozen man. “Let us go.” For a second, something akin to hurt flashes across the man’s face before he crosses the room, stopping just in front of Mohinder.

   “After what they did to me?” He smiles, and then directs his next comment over his shoulder. “And none of that; stay out of our heads.” Matt flushes, and then winces at whatever he finds in Sylar’s mind.

   The man in question steps closer, into Mohinder’s personal space, using what little height he has on Mohinder to loom above him; but it’s not threatening. He doesn’t feel panicked or the urge to run. Mohinder simply stands there and allows the invasion of space to happen, tilting his head what little he can to meet the other man’s probing gaze straight on.

   “You’ve missed me.” Sylar seems slightly amazed by the little fact, as do the other occupants in the room. Mohinder opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, unsure of what to say. He could say no, appease Matt and Bennet, or he could say yes…

   Sylar smiles; it’s different from his careless smirk, it’s one that Mohinder has not seen in a long time. He’s missed it; it lights up the other mans face and for a moment he appears to be someone else; someone that isn’t seconds away from probably murdering the people that imprisoned him in his own body.

   “I missed you too.” Sylar murmurs, head tilted forwards in what may have appeared a shy gesture but was not. He’s fairly certain that Bennet is straining to hear what is being said and cannot. “I just didn’t know it.”

    He basks in the knowledge and tries not to let it show on his face. He gets the feeling he has failed when Sylar smiles again, predatory this time and rests a hand on the back of Mohinder’s neck, fingers idly playing with his curls.

   “I’m not going to kill you.” He addresses the room. For some reason, Mohinder believes him right away. “Just keep you here for a bit.” Mohinder stares at him for a moment, and then realizes what he’s doing. He’s giving Peter and Claire time, time to do whatever they have planned.

   Sylar removes his hand suddenly, an odd look on his face, almost pained, before it’s gone again and for a second Mohinder wonders if Matt is seriously considering tampering with a serial killers mind- with Sylar’s mind, but Matt shows no sign of using his powers. Sylar ‘hmms’ again and steps back but doesn’t go far. He settles down on the edge of the couch, the waves his fingers and Mohinder is suddenly taking a few shaky steps forwards, against his will, to sit on the couch.

  “Can’t have you getting tired.” He isn’t sure whether this is an act of kindness or some sort of game Sylar is entertaining, but he feels some of whatever keeps him from moving, lift off him and allow him to sink back into the cushions. Sylar smiles down at him and the affect it has on him is startling and Mohinder flirts briefly with the notion of smiling back but he can’t ignore the two men pinned to the walls or that he himself barely has any mobility.

   Sylar slips down onto the couch next to Mohinder, one arm draped across the back and his body tilted towards his.

   “It shouldn’t take long now.” He murmurs. Mohinder wants to ask what, what won’t take long? But he already has an inkling of an idea.

DI

   His hand clenches the back of the couch, as it courses through him again. This ache, irritating and growing worse, becoming pain; he’s had worse, but this isn’t is as easy to ignore. His concentration is split between the mystery pain and continuing to keep the others in the room captive but he’s fighting a losing battle. Everything suddenly begins to slip away and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

  He is Sylar; the thought drifts through his mind, a dark and dangerous thought, one that he can feel slipping away. He doesn’t know how to stop it. He was Nathan Petrelli; the second thought is stronger, like it is fighting to dominate. Sylar is stronger than Nathan Petrelli ever will be, he refuses to be pushed under again.

    Who are you? He stiffens; a voice hisses in his ear. Nathan’s voice? His memories cloud his head. He’s Nathan- no, that’s not right, he’s Sylar. But Mohinder prefers Zane, doesn’t he. It’s not true. He’s Zane.

  His hand clenches- but reality doesn’t come crashing back to him. Is Parkman in his head? No, it’s not Parkman.

  He’s not Zane- he knows who he is. He’s Sylar. It doesn’t sound right. You’re not real.

   “Sylar?” He barely hears Mohinder over the voices screaming at him.

   What’s happening to him? How is he losing control? Weak. The voices tell him. Petrelli made you weak. No, Nathan Petrelli will not be the one to destroy him; he destroyed him first. Then why was he helping him?

   Zane. He was Zane, Mohinder liked him. Nathan. No, he was Nathan. The nightmares were wrong, he’s alive. He has everything. Someone to love, the perfect life… Gabriel. He’s not Gabriel, he is not a watch maker, he is not alone. Gabriel. No. No! He’s Sylar.

  Nathan. He’s Sylar and he is in control. Zane. But Mohinder liked Zane. Did he love Zane? No; he’s not Zane.

   You’re Danko, aren’t you?

   No!  No- he’s…he’s…

   A hand closes around his wrist, he feels it tighten, grind bones together and he latches onto the feeling, onto the person; latches onto their identity to stop himself from drowning.

   He’s…

DI

   “This is crazy.” Peter ignores her as they make their way (almost) silently through the alley. “What if we get caught?” What if it doesn’t work is what she means.

  “What are they going to do, arrest us?” Peter snaps, eyes darting around, looking for the guards that are supposed to be there. He spots them at the far end of the alley, in front of the door they need to go through. “Arrest you?” The daughter of the man in charge of the building; she doesn’t know.

   “Peter-“

   “Nathan’s in there.” He cuts her off viciously. “And I will do anything,” He pauses, takes a breath and lowers his voice again. “anything, to get him back.” There’s something in his voice that has her agreeing, she can’t say no to it- knows it would kill him to do so.

   “We need a plan.” She finally whispers, because a plan is easier to focus on than the unbreakable bond between the two men.

    “I have a plan.” Peter goes back to watching the men intently. She’s not sure what he’s doing.

   “A plan to get us in there.” She corrects because he has a plan for after, but they have to get in first.

   “Got one of those too.” He turns, smirks and there’s a single minded intensity there that shocks her. At first she thinks it’s a trick of light, but then Peters skin shifts and his image distorts and suddenly she’s left staring at her father. “I’m just going to check up on some things in my building with my daughter.” Noah Bennet tells her cheerfully. She likes Peters plan.

DI

  Mohinder starts and nearly lets go of the wrist he holds in a bruising grip. Calling to the other man hadn’t worked, neither had a light touch; it’s like he’s trapped in his own mind.

  One moment he had been holding them captive and then next, it was like he was lost.

  He has a moment to do what he can to bring the other man back; Bennet is slowly picking himself up from where he’s fallen and Matt has rushed to his aide. He’s not sure why Sylar’s powers failed suddenly; it could be a trap for all they know- but he’s certain that it’s not.

   Sylar’s face contorts, like he’s in pain, then the skin suddenly shifts. He realizes a second too late that he’s witnessing Sylar’s ability to shape shift first hand. One moment Sylar sits there and the next Mohinder has the eerie feeling of staring into a mirror.

   He doesn’t know what to say. What does one say to oneself? The other Mohinder- Sylar, he reminds himself firmly, opens his eyes and stares hazily at him. There’s no recognition there.

   “What the hell?” Matt pulls Bennet up and off the floor and finally takes in what has happened.

   “Is this some sort of trick?” Bennet, always suspicious, asks, shaking off Matt’s helpful hands.

   Mohinder slowly shakes his head and watches as Sylar almost subconsciously mimics the act.

   “It’s not a trick.” He says hoarsely. The man had been fine a few minutes ago- what had happened? “I think he’s lost control of his abilities.” Or at least shape shifting. Part of him is relieved that it wasn’t something much more destructive that he lost control of. 

   “We should get him contained while we have the opportunity.” But Bennet sounds more resigned than hostile now. Perhaps he believes now, that Sylar was not going to kill them.

   “No.” Mohinder tells him firmly. “Sylar? Can you hear me?” He applies a little more pressure to the wrist in his grasp, but there’s nothing so he loosens his hold again. Sylar continues to stare blankly at him through Mohinder’s eyes.

    “How’d he lose control?” Matt asks, peering at them curiously. Mohinder wants to snap that it probably had something to do with implanting false memories in his head but refrains from doing so; placing blame won’t help Sylar.

    “He’s changed.” Bennet speaks, mostly to himself but Mohinder has to agree. But he has an idea. Perhaps Sylar just needs to figure out who he is again.

   Mohinder lifts his other hand, hesitates, then reaches out and gently places it on the other man’s cheek. The skin is cool to the touch; cooler than his own. The other man blinks at him, something passing through his eyes before it’s gone again.

   “Sylar?” He asks cautiously. Nothing happens. “Gabriel?” He tries instead. The other man blinks, then again. He watches, entranced as the image of himself twists and melts and becomes Sylar again. There’s still a dazed look in the man’s eyes but he appears aware.

   “Mohinder?” He frowns and looks around as though unsure where he is. He barely glances over Bennet and Matt, obviously not interested in them. He closes his eyes and tilts his head as though listening for something and not finding it. “I can’t hear Nathan anymore.” He doesn’t know what that means. “His memories are gone.”