Rat in a Trap
Title: Rat in a Trap
Author:
Characters: Mylar
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 504
Disclaimer: Heroes does not belong to me no matter how much I wish it did.
Summary: Sylar is caught and being experimented on
Table/Prompt: This was written for mission_insane's AU/What if...? and piping_hot's Sketchy Mylar Challange Trapped
A/N: I don't normally write angst but this one just wouldn't leave me alone so I had to. Beta'd by the lovely flwrpwr_vampyre
Sylar lay on the table, strapped down and blurrily looking around. He didn’t know how long he’d been here or how many times they’d come in and tortured him. 'Scientific research' is what they called it, though it was nothing but pure torture. How much pain could he endure before his powers reacted on their own, how much he could endure before his body shut itself down as a survival technique? His throat was bleeding and raw from the screams that had been torn from him.
The only thing that had kept him going was the thought of dark curls framing warm brown eyes. A smile brighter then the sun, directed at him, helped him to survive each day’s new torture session. But now even that was fading. He felt like a rat trapped in a maze, an experiment set up by some sadistic son of a bitch. The door slid open and he flinched away, not wanting to look on the face of his torturer.
“I’m not going to tell you anything so you can just go to hell.” He rasped out, voice ravaged by screams and pleas. He closed his eyes, turning his head away from his captor.
“That’s good to know. But I don’t want to go to hell; I’d rather get you free.” A soft, warm voice whispered at him.
Sylar stopped breathing. This was a trick, it had to be, or else he’d finally lost his mind. There was no way that Mohinder was standing in the cell and talking about freeing him.
“You’re not real, go away,” he managed to get out before a coughing fit attacked him and he coughed so hard he could barely breathe. A warm hand cupped his face and he slowly opened his eyes to see warm brown eyes looking down at him with concern.
Mohinder sighed, brushing lank bangs off of a grizzled, drawn face. Sylar looked so pale, so…not himself. He worried that they’d been too late, that the man was broken beyond repair. Sylar turned away, haunted eyes staring at the wall and refused to look at Mohinder. He’d held on to that image for so long, it was a cruel trick now to make him think the other man was really here.
Mohinder started to unbuckle Sylar’s straps and hoped that Peter would be here soon to whisk them away. “I’m here, I’m really here. I promise that I won’t let them hurt you again. I’m so sorry it took us so long to find you; that you had to go through all that,” he whispered as he pulled the other man into a tight embrace, crooning soothing words at him.
Sylar slowly wrapped his arms around the man in front of him. Even if it was a hallucination he couldn’t help himself. Resting his head on Mohinder’s shoulder he shed the tears he’d been holding in. The two men stayed like that, one offering what little comfort he could to the other as sobs filled the tiny room.
Author:
Characters: Mylar
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 504
Disclaimer: Heroes does not belong to me no matter how much I wish it did.
Summary: Sylar is caught and being experimented on
Table/Prompt: This was written for mission_insane's AU/What if...? and piping_hot's Sketchy Mylar Challange Trapped
A/N: I don't normally write angst but this one just wouldn't leave me alone so I had to. Beta'd by the lovely flwrpwr_vampyre
Sylar lay on the table, strapped down and blurrily looking around. He didn’t know how long he’d been here or how many times they’d come in and tortured him. 'Scientific research' is what they called it, though it was nothing but pure torture. How much pain could he endure before his powers reacted on their own, how much he could endure before his body shut itself down as a survival technique? His throat was bleeding and raw from the screams that had been torn from him.
The only thing that had kept him going was the thought of dark curls framing warm brown eyes. A smile brighter then the sun, directed at him, helped him to survive each day’s new torture session. But now even that was fading. He felt like a rat trapped in a maze, an experiment set up by some sadistic son of a bitch. The door slid open and he flinched away, not wanting to look on the face of his torturer.
“I’m not going to tell you anything so you can just go to hell.” He rasped out, voice ravaged by screams and pleas. He closed his eyes, turning his head away from his captor.
“That’s good to know. But I don’t want to go to hell; I’d rather get you free.” A soft, warm voice whispered at him.
Sylar stopped breathing. This was a trick, it had to be, or else he’d finally lost his mind. There was no way that Mohinder was standing in the cell and talking about freeing him.
“You’re not real, go away,” he managed to get out before a coughing fit attacked him and he coughed so hard he could barely breathe. A warm hand cupped his face and he slowly opened his eyes to see warm brown eyes looking down at him with concern.
Mohinder sighed, brushing lank bangs off of a grizzled, drawn face. Sylar looked so pale, so…not himself. He worried that they’d been too late, that the man was broken beyond repair. Sylar turned away, haunted eyes staring at the wall and refused to look at Mohinder. He’d held on to that image for so long, it was a cruel trick now to make him think the other man was really here.
Mohinder started to unbuckle Sylar’s straps and hoped that Peter would be here soon to whisk them away. “I’m here, I’m really here. I promise that I won’t let them hurt you again. I’m so sorry it took us so long to find you; that you had to go through all that,” he whispered as he pulled the other man into a tight embrace, crooning soothing words at him.
Sylar slowly wrapped his arms around the man in front of him. Even if it was a hallucination he couldn’t help himself. Resting his head on Mohinder’s shoulder he shed the tears he’d been holding in. The two men stayed like that, one offering what little comfort he could to the other as sobs filled the tiny room.