Mohinder wasn't a doctor. Not a medical doctor at least, but he could see what stress and strain was doing to the teenager. He would heed the warning as best he could. Mohinder did not answer the boy and he didn't intend at all to ask more than he had to about the Campbell boy. "How's food coming along, Jack? Could we get a bag of something sweet please? And more chocolate milk."

He knew how to take care of his fiancé when he over stretched himself. He could help steer this version of him to safety too.

"And you'll need to lay down. You're starting to sweat."

Jack did as he was told, though he was starting to have a very bad feeling about this second boy with his melt down tendencies. He doubted it was really jealousy that made the boy had Mohinder so much as a possessiveness towards Sylar.

That he didn't care if he was killed, or that he suspected (maybe even hoped) to be murderer and consumed by Sylar was more worrying still. Campbell was nothing short of a psychopath who had already killed.

If Sylar let on the sexual satisfaction Luke got from murder... Well, Luke would no longer be alive. Jack could only tolerate so much.

Then again, Luke wasn't really doing so well right now. He couldn't cool down and if he couldn't cool down, he couldn't calm down. He'd give up, radiating heat enough to peel the paint by where he rested his head, breathing hard and fast. He was tucked away under the stairs.

He was alone.

This wasn't how he was suppose to die though.