Fic: Back to the Beginning
Title: Back to the Beginning
Author: Maxinegray
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: Sylar is Sylar.
Spoilers: The finale of S3
Summary/Prompt: A sequel to ‘ Where the Story Begins Again’, Sylar has a sit down with Mohinder.
Word Count: 1,380
A/N: Thanks to bennetluvr for looking this over for mistakes! Still haven’t seen the new season, still haven’t seen the last few episodes of s3 so it’s definitely AU in regards to canon. And mabetini made me post it. She's really bossy, that one.
~
“I’m not giving you the list.” He thrusts every bit of finality he can into those words. Sylar won't break him. He held out once before, he can do it again.
Sylar clenches his first and Mohinder flinches when glass shatters and sprays all over the room in a loss of control.
“I don’t care about that now,” Sylar stands, pacing. “I want the names of those involved. Everyone.”
“No.” Mohinder finalizes again, tensing, though he still jerks when the TV explodes behind him. He sees Sylar take a deep breath, his stance changing, now relaxed and calm and this frightens Mohinder all the more.
Sylar comes to sit down beside Mohinder who is trapped on the sofa, barely able to budge or shift from his forced seated position. “I don’t think you understand what I could do to you.”
Mohinder tries not to listen, tries not to remember those painful fits he agonized through not so long ago.
“Call them.” Sylar orders though he has received no reply from Mohinder.
“Call who?”
Sylar gestures to the laptop on the desk behind him. “You were doing more than just working on the list, you were looking for Nathan as well...” Sylar pauses, grinning bitterly at the humour. “…Or should I say me? Someone wanted you to find me, and I want to know who.”
Making the dangerous decision to pay no attention to Sylar, Mohinder takes the time to flex his fingers, staring at his hands in disgust. He had gone from being powerless, a victim, to becoming special and powerful and now it was all just…gone. Faster and more abrupt then he thought possible.
“Mohinder,” Sylar, soft spoken, has moved closer, staring intently at Mohinder though he refuses to look back. “Help me and I promise not to hurt you anymore.”
It’s a lie.
Sylar has most likely already decided Mohinder’s part in the cover-up and his only goal now will be to extract his revenge from him and all the rest involved. Mohinder was once again just a means to one of Sylar’s ends.
“You’re going to kill them?”
“Yes.”
So straightforward and sure, there is no dangling of a sinuous carrot.
He shouldn’t ignore Sylar, all it would do is provoke the killer but still he can’t answer, because whether he knows for sure or not his suspicions would certainly give Sylar an answer. None of which he’s willing to divulge to a murdering sociopath.
In his silence, Sylar had taken to walking around the apartment, touching odd objects here and there, like each one held a purpose and a story. Mohinder tries not to pay attention to these actions and movements though eventually he gets curious enough to watch but still he barely catches the words Sylar says next.
“Noah Bennet was here.”
Mohinder blinks. “How-?”
Dropping the four day old newspaper back onto the counter, Sylar turns towards Mohinder, eyes flashing with knowledge he shouldn’t have. “Now what would Noah Bennet want with you?”
Mohinder scrambles for an answer, anything to keep Sylar from the truth. “He had questions about Claire’s abilities.”
“Lie.”
“He did. And he wanted to me to try and contact her.” Mohinder’s beginning to panic, mind racing to comprehend how Sylar can know these things, though he has an inkling the solution lies once more in Sylar’s powers.
“Again, a lie.” Sylar seethes as he grabs at the next closest thing and Mohinder watches, mortified as the wooden chair Sylar is touching wavers slightly and then crumbles into nothing.
“Is this how it’s going to be Mohinder? I’m asking you nicely to help right a wrong and you just keep on trying to play games with me.”
Mohinder gapes at the empty space for a moment but springs right back fuelled by the need to defend himself, to prove that guilt and morals were not tools to controlling him. “You can keep up this façade Sylar, but we both know you’re not the victim. What was done to you is nothing compared to what you’ve done to countless others.”
“That doesn’t make it right. Or maybe the lines have been completely blurred for you? After all you did work for Arthur Petrelli.”
“I’ll never help you.”
Sylar laughs, deep and bitter. “You say that but I remember differently. Dale back in Montana, Isaac Mendez in New York, and then my dear Doctor with that nasty little Shanti virus. You’ve been helping me all along; don’t deny yourself the pleasure now.”
Mohinder felt his insides twist and lurch at those words. Sylar was right. He had unknowingly helped Sylar in the beginning but ignorance could only be excused once. The next time, he had consciously given Sylar the cure, the blood that had restored his powers, spurning them all on this journey.
So the truth was laid out once again, as bare and as resentful as before.
He had a hand in everything that Sylar had done, a part of the responsibility in every death, and every bit of the chaos Sylar unleashed.
“Turning my guilt against me won’t work, Sylar.” Mohinder manages to grit out, but deep inside it is. Twisting and manifesting; eating away at everything he is.
“Won’t it? You and me working together. It’ll be like old time’s sake, but no guns or ceilings, I promise.”
It’s only a moment but a moment none the less where Mohinder considers helping him; if only for his own selfish reasons to rid Sylar out of his life. Then he remembers the faces and the names of the innocent victims, the ones who did nothing wrong but have the power Sylar so eagerly craved for, and the idea is shoved away.
Giving in should not be an option, is not an option. Whatever Sylar does now, he does to Mohinder alone. With no Maya or Molly here, Sylar is without leverage.
“I won’t help you, Sylar.” Mohinder closes his eyes, knowing his words are probably marking his own tombstone but it’s a small price for redemption.
Sylar’s face darkens into an obvious shade of fury and frustration. “You’re not lying.” He strides over to the sofa, looming over where Mohinder sits, his mouth set in a firm line. “You won’t help me. At least not willingly.”
It’s only a hint of touch, of Sylar’s hand grazing Mohinder’s shoulder and there is a hot stinging pain crawling over his skin, digging into his flesh. Mohinder hears himself cry out and then is swooped into the unforgiving darkness.
~
“I forgot you know.”
The voice sinking through into his murky mind sounds different; more distinguished and very familiar. Mohinder groans as he struggles to open his heavy eyelids, his body and mind screaming for a rest free of consuming pain.
“About your love for verbal sparring, goading at me until you get what you want.”
A large hand grabs Mohinder’s chin roughly, forcing him to focus his blurry vision into the eyes of someone he now knows is dead.
“And I know you want me to kill you before you give anything away.” Nathan Petrelli uncurls his fingers and steps away, adjusting the sleeves of his suit coat. “Four times now I could have killed you but I didn’t. Why do you think that is?”
Mohinder just blinks stupidly. It’s then that he notices he’s no longer trapped on the couch; instead he’s on one of his chairs, hands taped behind him.
“I believe it’s because we’re destined to work together, you and I, though by your lack of cooperation I can see it’s not going to be easy.” Nathan (no, it can’t be Nathan) leans against the far wall, crossing his arms. The senator’s face is impassive and cold. “And I just don’t think that there is anything else I can say to convince you.”
“Then kill me.” Mohinder angrily spits out, trying not to notice how Sylar’s movements, his demeanour, everything is the perfect match of Nathan.
“There you go again, trying to get me to do what you want; when the truth is I’m not going to kill you, Mohinder.”
Mohinder slumps forward, closing his eyes, tensing only the slightest when Nathan (no, Sylar) rests his hand on his shoulder.
“But you’ll be begging me to before this is over.”
~
~
~
Note: I have to plans to continue this... Mylar is just too yum to stop.
Author: Maxinegray
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: Sylar is Sylar.
Spoilers: The finale of S3
Summary/Prompt: A sequel to ‘ Where the Story Begins Again’, Sylar has a sit down with Mohinder.
Word Count: 1,380
A/N: Thanks to bennetluvr for looking this over for mistakes! Still haven’t seen the new season, still haven’t seen the last few episodes of s3 so it’s definitely AU in regards to canon. And mabetini made me post it. She's really bossy, that one.
~
“I’m not giving you the list.” He thrusts every bit of finality he can into those words. Sylar won't break him. He held out once before, he can do it again.
Sylar clenches his first and Mohinder flinches when glass shatters and sprays all over the room in a loss of control.
“I don’t care about that now,” Sylar stands, pacing. “I want the names of those involved. Everyone.”
“No.” Mohinder finalizes again, tensing, though he still jerks when the TV explodes behind him. He sees Sylar take a deep breath, his stance changing, now relaxed and calm and this frightens Mohinder all the more.
Sylar comes to sit down beside Mohinder who is trapped on the sofa, barely able to budge or shift from his forced seated position. “I don’t think you understand what I could do to you.”
Mohinder tries not to listen, tries not to remember those painful fits he agonized through not so long ago.
“Call them.” Sylar orders though he has received no reply from Mohinder.
“Call who?”
Sylar gestures to the laptop on the desk behind him. “You were doing more than just working on the list, you were looking for Nathan as well...” Sylar pauses, grinning bitterly at the humour. “…Or should I say me? Someone wanted you to find me, and I want to know who.”
Making the dangerous decision to pay no attention to Sylar, Mohinder takes the time to flex his fingers, staring at his hands in disgust. He had gone from being powerless, a victim, to becoming special and powerful and now it was all just…gone. Faster and more abrupt then he thought possible.
“Mohinder,” Sylar, soft spoken, has moved closer, staring intently at Mohinder though he refuses to look back. “Help me and I promise not to hurt you anymore.”
It’s a lie.
Sylar has most likely already decided Mohinder’s part in the cover-up and his only goal now will be to extract his revenge from him and all the rest involved. Mohinder was once again just a means to one of Sylar’s ends.
“You’re going to kill them?”
“Yes.”
So straightforward and sure, there is no dangling of a sinuous carrot.
He shouldn’t ignore Sylar, all it would do is provoke the killer but still he can’t answer, because whether he knows for sure or not his suspicions would certainly give Sylar an answer. None of which he’s willing to divulge to a murdering sociopath.
In his silence, Sylar had taken to walking around the apartment, touching odd objects here and there, like each one held a purpose and a story. Mohinder tries not to pay attention to these actions and movements though eventually he gets curious enough to watch but still he barely catches the words Sylar says next.
“Noah Bennet was here.”
Mohinder blinks. “How-?”
Dropping the four day old newspaper back onto the counter, Sylar turns towards Mohinder, eyes flashing with knowledge he shouldn’t have. “Now what would Noah Bennet want with you?”
Mohinder scrambles for an answer, anything to keep Sylar from the truth. “He had questions about Claire’s abilities.”
“Lie.”
“He did. And he wanted to me to try and contact her.” Mohinder’s beginning to panic, mind racing to comprehend how Sylar can know these things, though he has an inkling the solution lies once more in Sylar’s powers.
“Again, a lie.” Sylar seethes as he grabs at the next closest thing and Mohinder watches, mortified as the wooden chair Sylar is touching wavers slightly and then crumbles into nothing.
“Is this how it’s going to be Mohinder? I’m asking you nicely to help right a wrong and you just keep on trying to play games with me.”
Mohinder gapes at the empty space for a moment but springs right back fuelled by the need to defend himself, to prove that guilt and morals were not tools to controlling him. “You can keep up this façade Sylar, but we both know you’re not the victim. What was done to you is nothing compared to what you’ve done to countless others.”
“That doesn’t make it right. Or maybe the lines have been completely blurred for you? After all you did work for Arthur Petrelli.”
“I’ll never help you.”
Sylar laughs, deep and bitter. “You say that but I remember differently. Dale back in Montana, Isaac Mendez in New York, and then my dear Doctor with that nasty little Shanti virus. You’ve been helping me all along; don’t deny yourself the pleasure now.”
Mohinder felt his insides twist and lurch at those words. Sylar was right. He had unknowingly helped Sylar in the beginning but ignorance could only be excused once. The next time, he had consciously given Sylar the cure, the blood that had restored his powers, spurning them all on this journey.
So the truth was laid out once again, as bare and as resentful as before.
He had a hand in everything that Sylar had done, a part of the responsibility in every death, and every bit of the chaos Sylar unleashed.
“Turning my guilt against me won’t work, Sylar.” Mohinder manages to grit out, but deep inside it is. Twisting and manifesting; eating away at everything he is.
“Won’t it? You and me working together. It’ll be like old time’s sake, but no guns or ceilings, I promise.”
It’s only a moment but a moment none the less where Mohinder considers helping him; if only for his own selfish reasons to rid Sylar out of his life. Then he remembers the faces and the names of the innocent victims, the ones who did nothing wrong but have the power Sylar so eagerly craved for, and the idea is shoved away.
Giving in should not be an option, is not an option. Whatever Sylar does now, he does to Mohinder alone. With no Maya or Molly here, Sylar is without leverage.
“I won’t help you, Sylar.” Mohinder closes his eyes, knowing his words are probably marking his own tombstone but it’s a small price for redemption.
Sylar’s face darkens into an obvious shade of fury and frustration. “You’re not lying.” He strides over to the sofa, looming over where Mohinder sits, his mouth set in a firm line. “You won’t help me. At least not willingly.”
It’s only a hint of touch, of Sylar’s hand grazing Mohinder’s shoulder and there is a hot stinging pain crawling over his skin, digging into his flesh. Mohinder hears himself cry out and then is swooped into the unforgiving darkness.
~
“I forgot you know.”
The voice sinking through into his murky mind sounds different; more distinguished and very familiar. Mohinder groans as he struggles to open his heavy eyelids, his body and mind screaming for a rest free of consuming pain.
“About your love for verbal sparring, goading at me until you get what you want.”
A large hand grabs Mohinder’s chin roughly, forcing him to focus his blurry vision into the eyes of someone he now knows is dead.
“And I know you want me to kill you before you give anything away.” Nathan Petrelli uncurls his fingers and steps away, adjusting the sleeves of his suit coat. “Four times now I could have killed you but I didn’t. Why do you think that is?”
Mohinder just blinks stupidly. It’s then that he notices he’s no longer trapped on the couch; instead he’s on one of his chairs, hands taped behind him.
“I believe it’s because we’re destined to work together, you and I, though by your lack of cooperation I can see it’s not going to be easy.” Nathan (no, it can’t be Nathan) leans against the far wall, crossing his arms. The senator’s face is impassive and cold. “And I just don’t think that there is anything else I can say to convince you.”
“Then kill me.” Mohinder angrily spits out, trying not to notice how Sylar’s movements, his demeanour, everything is the perfect match of Nathan.
“There you go again, trying to get me to do what you want; when the truth is I’m not going to kill you, Mohinder.”
Mohinder slumps forward, closing his eyes, tensing only the slightest when Nathan (no, Sylar) rests his hand on his shoulder.
“But you’ll be begging me to before this is over.”
~
~
~
Note: I have to plans to continue this... Mylar is just too yum to stop.