"You deserve worse." There was little to no fire behind the words. "So much worse." It was like he was trying to convince himself of that fact as the dark spot on Sylar's coat grew. Mohinder drew up his knees. He thought that revenge would be more satisfying. He thought it would wash away the hurt. He and Chandra had never been close. Mohinder would have liked them to be but his father was more motivated by his work than anything else. If he had known why, if he had moved to follow in his footsteps earlier, maybe this all could have been prevented.

Mohinder didn't have any of the answers. He had had a man who had been his friend ten minutes ago and his enemy all along bleeding out on the floor in a house he was locked inside of.

"It's still murder," he whispered. If-- When Sylar died of this wound, if he returned to life in the morgue, Mohinder wasn't sure what he'd do. All he knew was that he wanted tonight to be over. He wanted to be alone. And he could never trust anyone again.