As Maya begins to breathe again, in small, shallow gasps, Mohinder stoops to pick up the bullet that fell from the wound in her chest. He examines it, wondering.
The box containing one last vial of the cheerleader's blood -- the blood that can heal anyone, cure anything -- lies open and ignored. Swiftly, before Mohinder can turn his attention in certain other directions, Sylar steps forward and gathers the box into his arms; he shuts it with a firm click and keeps his gun lifted.
"I'm sure Maya will understand if I'm not here when she wakes up," he says, anything but regretful, and starts to back away.
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As Maya begins to breathe again, in small, shallow gasps, Mohinder stoops to pick up the bullet that fell from the wound in her chest. He examines it, wondering.
The box containing one last vial of the cheerleader's blood -- the blood that can heal anyone, cure anything -- lies open and ignored. Swiftly, before Mohinder can turn his attention in certain other directions, Sylar steps forward and gathers the box into his arms; he shuts it with a firm click and keeps his gun lifted.
"I'm sure Maya will understand if I'm not here when she wakes up," he says, anything but regretful, and starts to back away.