Fic: Hours (1/2)
Title: Hours (1/2)
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder
Rating: R
Summary: This process takes several hours, but getting there took much longer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Slash, AU, Mpreg, Spoilers for Vol 4, Mild spoilers for Vol 5 (Just know who Emma is)
December 29, 2007 - 11:45 AM
Mohinder knew that something was wrong. His whole body had been flushed and tingling ever since he had rolled out of bed. His hands were trembled as he struggled through his morning routine and his mind kept drawing itself back to the feeling of discomfort that spread from the lower half of his stomach into his chest. The feeling came in short bursts, but the sensation was there and it unnerved him.
His eyes instinctively flashed to the clock mounted on his wall, wondering briefly if he should bother going in to work at all. He certainly did not feel up to driving a taxi for nine hours while his stomach turned on him. That was when the pain came again, stronger now and more insistent, as if telling him that these symptoms would not go away.
The geneticist groaned, pushing himself out of his seat and towards the phone resting on top of the small stack of papers on his desk. He knew what was happening -- even if it all felt so sudden, too soon -- and he knew what he had to do to take care of it.
Slim fingers quickly punched in the number that he had memorized by heart. He held his breath, counting the number of rings with mild panic as he waited anxiously for someone to receive his call.
"Hello?"
A wave of relief washed over the Indian geneticist at the sound of his friend's voice. "Peter," he started, his voice trembling slightly with anxiety as he tried to focus on his phone call, and not the way his body was suddenly turning against him. "Where are you?"
"I'm on my way to work," the young man said slowly, a slight hint of confusion in his tone.
"Good," Mohinder breathed, clutching the phone in his trembling hands. "Because I need you to take me to the hospital."
There was a brief moment of silence on the other line and Mohinder worried for a second that their call had dropped. "Wh... You mean it's time?" his friend stammered, panic growing in his voice.
"Yeah," he confirmed. "It's time."
March 24, 2007 - 2:04 PM
"Leave." Mohinder practically growled the word as he stood there -- body on edge, hands balled into tight fists, and the far too aggressive voice in the back of his head urging him to spring out and attack -- less than a foot between him and the man who had murdered his father.
Sylar smirked, quickly turning his attention away from Mohinder's tense form and gazing absent mindedly at a computer monitor. "I will when you start asking me nicely," he said, a far too cocky tone coloring his words. "What are you working on? A cure for yourself?"
Something inside Mohinder snapped at those words -- which wasn't much of a surprise since he snapped very easily now -- and he suddenly found himself closing the gap between them and punching Sylar square in the jaw. The taller man stumbled backwards, clutching his shattered mandible with both hands as he turned his dark eyes towards Mohinder.
"I told you to leave, so leave," the Indian hissed. "This is my lab and I don't want you here!"
The serial killer was quiet as he waited for his face to heal. The sound of bones mending together and being pushed back in their proper place made Mohinder's stomach churn with displeasure.
"Well my father owns this building," Sylar shot back, wiping the blood off of his of mouth with the back of his sleeve. "So I'll go where ever I damn well please."
Mohinder gave out a sharp laugh at that statement. The idea of Sylar being the Petrellis' long lost son was ridiculous to say the least. He wasn't about to even entertain the thought until he saw some hard evidence to prove such a ludicrous statement and he knew deep inside that Sylar didn't really believe it either. Sylar was many things, but -- as reluctant as he was to admit it -- the serial killer was not stupid
"Well daddy isn't here to help you," Mohinder growled, shoving at the larger man's shoulder with just enough force to make him stumble and leave a temporary bruise. "So I suggest you get out of here before I break something off!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Sylar flicked his wrist in his direction and Mohinder found himself being flung backwards. The geneticist grunted as his already aching body slammed into a metal filing cabinet, crushing it like a tin can. "I'll leave when I'm ready," Sylar hissed.
The Indian gritted his teeth and got up on his slightly trembling feet quickly. Marching towards the tall American, he found himself wrapping his strong hand around Sylar's neck, slamming the man's back roughly against his desk and...
Dear gods. He didn't remember Sylar smelling this good or his body being so warm or...
The American gave him a curious look, cocking his head to the side before Mohinder bent down and pressed their lips together in a hungry, desperate kiss. Mohinder knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew he should have just thrown Sylar out of his lab, but he was so lonely. His body was in constant pain, his mind was falling apart, and all of his friends and acquaintances had turned their backs on him. He needed someone, anyone to touch, to feel, to tell him that he was still alive and when he was gone he would be missed and wasn't fate cruel to have that someone be Sylar.
The murderer stiffened in surprise at the unusual contact, but he quickly relaxed into his touch. "Oh Doctor," he practically purred when they parted briefly to fill their burning lungs with much needed oxygen. "You are a kinky one. I hope you know there are cameras all over your lab. Someone will see us."
"Let them watch," Mohinder growled, pinning the taller man's body underneath his and diving down for another kiss.
December 29, 2007 - 12:55 PM
Mohinder frowned as he listened to the recorded message on the other end of the line. It was the sixth time he had tried to call his mother and she still wasn't picking up. He sighed, tapping the phone to his head as he struggled to decide whether he should leave a message or hang up and try again. He felt guilty enough as it was having this child -- her grandchild -- in another country. At that moment he wished more than anything that the woman could be there. He needed her to guide him through this process, to tell him that everything was going to be alright.
The Indian gave another sigh when he heard the brief beep that told him to record his message now. "Mother, it's me," he began. "I'm at the hospital and..." His words slowly faded away as he looked around the cramped emergency room. Peter had left him there while he went to punch in and put his things in his locker and Mohinder suddenly felt very exposed and awkward in the room full of sick individuals. He couldn't blurt out that he was having a baby. The looks he would get... "Just call me back. Please."
As soon as his fingers hit the end call button, he was hit with another burning contraction. Mohinder grunted, screwing his eyes shut and cradling his swollen middle in his trembling hands. He didn't know how he was supposed to do this. He was only in the beginning stages of labor and already the pain was unbearable.
"It's the anxiety," Peter assured him, causing Mohinder to twist around in his seat.
Mohinder quirked a brow at the younger man's statement. "Telepathy?" he asked. Peter usually only borrowed powers that would directly help him with his job and, although reading minds was always a handy trick, he couldn't help wondering when and why he had borrowed that particular ability.
"Figured it would come in handy with your situation," Peter explained. "It'll be easier to communicate with the doctors and take care of all the paper work."
The geneticist nodded his head slowly; understanding creeping into his mind as the contraction slowly subsided. "So you say its anxiety?"
"It increases the natural pain that comes with labor," he told him. "The more anxious you are, the worse you'll feel. Just keep calm and everything will be okay."
"Easier said than done," he frowned, rubbing his stomach in soothing circles. "You're not about to have a human being ripped out of your body."
Peter shrugged, pushing a wheelchair in front of his friend and motioning for him to get in. "No, but I know the people here and I can assure you that you and your baby are in good hands. Now let me take you to your room."
"Not in that." Mohinder scowled at the chair Peter was offering him. He could still walk and the idea of taking a wheelchair away from someone who actually needed it did not sit well with him. "I don't need that. I can stand."
"Trust me, Mohinder, you need this," the other man assured him. His words were confident and firm, backed up by his experience and medical knowledge. Mohinder had never seen Peter this sure of himself. It was a bit startling, but he supposed it came with the younger man being in his natural environment. He felt a bit proud of his friend at that moment, even if he was getting on his nerves. "You may feel fine now, but when you get hit with another contraction, your knees will feel weak and your mind will be buzzing with so much pain you won't even remember your name, let alone how your legs function. Now just get in the chair and let me do my job."
Mohinder sighed and did as he was directed, slipping out of his seat and into the wheelchair. A faint blush spread across his cheeks as Peter began to push him towards the elevator.
"I'm putting you in the maternity ward," Peter said. "We might get a few weird looks, but if anybody asks, I'll tell them we were running low on beds and needed to put you in there."
"What about my doctor?" he asked.
"I'll have a friend check in on you," he told him. "She's one of the best doctors we have and she'll take good care of you."
"Is she a surgeon?"
"No, but we'll work something out. You'll need a C-Section so we'll try to find an opened surgical slot and fit you in."
Mohinder sighed, resting his head in his hands as Peter pushed the elevator call button and waited patiently for the door to chime open. "So does it feel strange being a nurse again?" he asked, trying to take his mind off of his situation.
Peter shrugged. He had been a paramedic for a while, believing that he would be able to have a more active position in saving lives, but eventually went back to the nursing field he'd been trained for. "At first it was, but..." He shrugged as the doors eased open and he ushered the two of them inside. "It's sort of like riding a bike. Only took a few days for me to get back into the grove."
"What made you want to make the change?"
The nurse sighed, pressing the button to their floor and brushing his long brown hair out of his face. "Being an EMT was just too impersonal," he said simply. "I mend people, keep them alive until we get to the hospital, then I never see them again. It was too much of a change from hospice care. I just needed to take care of people, you know? Help them through their pain and be more active in getting them back on their feet."
Mohinder smiled, reaching over his shoulder to grab his friend's hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "It's a perfect fit for you," he whispered, allowing the silence to settle on them as they approached his floor.
June 15, 2007 - 5:15 PM
Mohinder groaned when he was suddenly jerked awake by the strange rocking motion that seemed to surround him. His head buzzed and his mouth tasted like cotton. The last thing the Indian man could remember was being surrounded by Danko's men and tasered into unconsciousness. Yet he wasn't in Building 26. He was somewhere else entirely.
He frowned, blinking several times to try to clear the fog that had settled over his sleepy brown eyes. From what he could tell, he was in a car, strapped into the front passenger seat and driving towards the setting sun. He let out another moan, cradling his head in his hands as his heavy lids threatened to slip shut again.
"You're awake?" Mohinder turned his sluggish body towards the unfamiliar voice. He saw a pale skinned man with loose brown curls and sharp blue eyes staring at him before quickly turning back towards the road. "Sorry. This road is kinda bumpy, but it'll pass. Go back to sleep."
"Where am I?" he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep and his mind unable to focus.
"You're safe," the stranger assured him and said nothing else.
"I was... I was attacked," he went on, trying to put the pieces together, but something wouldn't let him. "Danko... Should I be in Building 26?"
"I broke you out."
"Why?" he whispered, slumping back against the seat that just seemed so warm and inviting to his worn out body. "Who... who are you?"
"A friend," the stranger told him, reaching out to stroke the Indian's cheek gently before pulling his hand away. "Just go back to sleep."
In spite of all the questions that still swirled in his mind, Mohinder actually found himself drifting off as he listened to the steady rustle of the air conditioning and felt his body relax to the vibrations of the car.
December 29, 2007 - 1:30 PM
Mohinder sighed, caressing his cell phone with the pad of his thumb and staring at the screen desperately. No calls, no texts, no voice mails. Nothing.
"She'll call," Peter assured him, filling out his chart and not bothering to look Mohinder in the eye. "Don't worry about it."
"It is late in India," he sighed, placing the phone on a nearby table. "She might be asleep."
Peter looked over at him then, his wide brown eyes softening with sympathy. "I'm sure that's it," he told him, pulling up a chair next to Mohinder's hospital bed. "If she knew that you were here, she'd definitely call you back."
"Or she could be ignoring me," Mohinder grumbled, resting his head in his hands. "I did wait a long time to tell her about this."
"That's not your fault," he said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You were scared and confused and didn't know how to handle this situation. Besides, she's your mom. She loves you."
The geneticist frowned. He hated being treated like this. Even if Peter meant well, it still got under his skin to be pitied and coddled like a child. "Don't you have other patients to take care of?" Mohinder asked, trying not to make his words sound too harsh since he knew that Peter was only doing his job as a nurse and a friend.
"Yeah, but I got a few of the other nurses to cover them for me," he explained giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You need me here, right?"
Mohinder was about to say something, about to ask if Peter had used his telepathy to convince the other staff members to do his work for him, but his words were cut off by another contraction. "Oh gods," he gasped, reaching out to grasp something, but instead turning his fingers to the sheets that were wrapped around his body. His back arched, his eyes screwed shut, and his mouth flew open in a silent scream. This one felt much stronger than the others. It felt as if someone were punching him from the inside.
"It's okay Mohinder," Peter soothed, grabbing his friend's shoulder and arm in his reassuring hands. "Just breathe. Come on, slow breaths. We're going to get through this."
The Indian man, moaned, gasped, and struggled to take in slow breaths to relax his body and calm the fire burning in his stomach.
"That's good," his friend said, running a hand through his hair. "You're doing good."
"Gods! I need an epidural," he breathed once the pain had subsided enough for him to think again. "Is there an anesthesiologist nearby?"
The younger man laughed, giving his arm a slight squeeze before getting up from his seat, grabbing his chart and stethoscope. "I'll go see if I can find someone to help you out," he assured him. "Just remember; stay calm and take slow breaths."
Mohinder nodded as his friend slipped out of his room. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his bed, rubbing soothing circles into his stomach and praying silently for his baby's health.
June 15, 2007 - 9:05 PM
The soft sound of water pattering against the window was the first thing that greeted Mohinder's ears. His eyes fluttered open slowly, catching the warm red numbers on the clock beside his head that read 9:05 before he flipped over to his side. His mind was still working in slow motion and it took him a while to grasp the fact that he was sleeping in a bed, in a motel room, instead of the car he had previously woken up in.
The cotton taste still clung to his mouth and his limbs were still sluggish with sleep, even as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the creaky motel room bed. As he rested his back against the head board, he found his eye lids slipping shut again and his head bobbing against his chest as his mind tried to pull him back into the world of sleep.
"Hey, wake up," a voice called out to him. "You haven't eaten in a long time. You gotta get something into your stomach."
Mohinder forced himself awake only to see the brown haired man who had been in the car with him now sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. The stranger's gaze softened as Mohinder's blurry eyes slowly began to focus on his face. "Where am I?" the Indian muttered, rubbing his face roughly.
"You're in a motel room in Canada," he whispered, rubbing his pale fingers against Mohinder's stubble covered cheeks. "You'll be safe here."
Mohinder frowned, pulling himself away from the stranger's touch. He couldn't wrap his head around this man. The stranger had risked his life to save him -- him, just him and not any of the other evolved humans trapped in Danko's fortress -- called himself a friend and treated him with such familiarity. Yet Mohinder could not recall ever meeting him before. "Who are you?"
"A friend," the man said.
Anger instantly flared inside of the Indian man's stomach at the stranger's cryptic words. "No. Not good enough. Who are you? Tell me."
The stranger sighed, pulling himself backwards slightly as if considering his options and not liking what he got. Mohinder felt his eyes widen and his skin lose its color as he watched the man's body bend and twist, reshaping itself until Sylar was now sitting on the bed with him.
"Oh gods!" Mohinder gasped, scrambling away from the far too familiar face as his heart raced with panic.
"Hey, calm down," Sylar snapped, raising a hand and holding Mohinder in place with his telekinesis. "I just saved your life, remember?"
"Why?" Mohinder asked, gritting his teeth as he struggled against the invisible binds. "What's going on? How did you even know I was in Building 26?"
"I'll answer your questions later," Sylar sighed, running a hand over his slicked back hair. "Right now, I want you to eat something for me."
"No!" he cut in quickly. "No, I want answers. Right now."
Sylar frowned, tightening his jaw in displeasure before pushing himself off the bed and retreating to the other end of the room.
December 29, 2007 - 2:02 PM
His phone started vibrating before Peter could find the anesthesiologist, but hearing his mother's voice was as soothing as any sedative. 'Hello? Mohinder?' his mother's panicked voice came, slipping into their native tongue in her worried state. 'Are you alright? Have you had the baby yet?'
'Not yet Mother,' he assured her.
'When did your contractions start?'
'At about ten o'clock this morning.'
'And you haven't had surgery yet?' The Indian woman clucked her tongue and Mohinder could practically hear her shaking her head the way she always did when she was upset. 'Tell me you've at least been given an epidural.'
The geneticist cringed at her words, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. He knew it wasn't his fault that things were progressing so slowly, but the fact that his mother was in a state of worry did not sit well with him. The last thing he wanted was to trouble the poor woman. 'Not yet,' he admitted. 'My nurse friend, Peter, is trying to find someone for me, but-'
'You poor thing,' she crooned, cutting him off before he could even finish his thought. 'How do the contractions feel? Are you in a lot of pain?'
'They're not so bad,' he lied. In truth, the pain was intensifying by the minute. He had to wonder if Peter's suggestion that the anxiety was the cause of his troubles was true, but he doubted it. After all, he was about to give birth with no birth canal. His baby was basically just pressing down on his organs and struggling to break free.
Their conversation was interrupted when a blonde woman in a white lab coat appeared in his door. She smiled politely, waving at him to gain his attention, and Mohinder knew right away that she was the doctor Peter had told him about.
'I have to go, Mother. My doctor is here.'
'Alright, but call me right back. I will stay awake until the baby is born.'
'Don't do that Mother. You need your rest. I'll be just fine.'
'A mother cannot sleep knowing her child is in pain,' she chided. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk her out of her decision. After all, he had inherited his stubborn nature from her, not his father as many assumed. 'I will be waiting.'
'Alright,' he relented. 'Goodbye Mother.'
'Goodbye Mohinder.'
He clicked the end call button and turned to give the young doctor his full attention. "Doctor Suresh?" she began, using her hands to sign along with her words. He knew then that the woman was hearing impaired. "How are you feeling?"
"Did Peter send you here Doctor...?"
"Coolidge," she finished, tapping the name stitched above her coat pocket. "Yes, he did. Sorry to keep you waiting."
He gave her a tight smile as she closed the door behind her. "Can I assume that you're 'special' as well?"
Dr. Coolidge nodded. "I can, uh, see sounds," she told him.
Mohinder raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her words, his natural curiosity taking over him. "That's... extraordinary."
She gave him a shy smile, her fingers tightening around her clipboard as she pressed it against her chest. "It was a bit frightening at first," she began a slight note of nervousness present in her tone, "but Peter helped me to... accept it."
He smiled at her words. Peter certainly did have a way of connecting with people.
"So, how long ago was your last contraction?" she asked, drawing Mohinder's mind back into the situation at hand.
"Not long," he told her. "About a minute or two."
Dr. Coolidge nodded, writing something down very quickly on her clipboard before raising her eyes to look at him again. "And how far apart are they coming?"
"About every fifteen minutes," he said.
She gave him another quick nod, placing her chart down before approaching the foot of his bed. "I just want to check your progress," she told him as she rolled up his sheets. Mohinder gasped and squirmed as she pressed her cold hands against his burning hot flesh. He watched as she frowned, pressing into his belly, trying to get a feel for where his child was and what position it was in. "Do you feel that pressure?" Dr. Coolidge began, squeezing lightly on his lower abdomen. "That's your baby's head. Normally, I would be checking to see how dilated you were, but since you don't have those... parts your baby is pressing down on your organs and trying to find a way out. If this keeps going, the baby might get caught and hurt itself.
"There's a surgical slot at about three o'clock. We'll perform a C-section then. The surgeon will make an incision along your bladder and pull the baby out. The process is very quick and the rest of the surgery will be spent sewing you back up."
Mohinder nodded along, allowing the woman to speak. He already knew the process and what it would involve, but his stomach still did back flips at the idea of being sliced open and having a part of him ripped out. It was the best thing for his baby, of that he was certain, but it still set him on edge.
June 15, 2007 - 9:25 PM
Mohinder frowned, thumbing through the manila folder Sylar had placed in his lap. His eyes widened when he opened the file and saw his entire life spread out before his eyes. Everything from his dental records to his application for citizenship was sandwiched between the sand colored folder.
"What is this?" Mohinder asked, pulling out what looked like a copy of his teaching degree.
"It's your file from Building 26," Sylar told him leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
"How did you get all this?" he whispered, finding a picture of himself from when he was only twelve years old.
"Let's just say I was doing an 'inside job'," Sylar shrugged.
Mohinder felt his frown deepened as he continued to flip through the papers that seemed to chronicle his entire life. "I don't understand," he began. "What does this have to do with...?" His words faded away when his eyes landed on a document that looked far too recent.
"Danko's men were doing experiments on you," the serial killer explained, noticing the document that Mohinder was now holding in his hands gazing at it as if he had been waiting the entire time for the other man to retrieve that piece of paper. "They also took blood samples and found-"
"Human chorionic gonadotropin?" Mohinder read; his heart hammering in his chest as his eyes passed over the words again and again.
"Yeah," Sylar sighed, slightly annoyed at being interrupted.
If Sylar kept talking, Mohinder didn't notice. All he heard was the sound of his heart beating and his blood churning as his stomach tied itself into knots. If there were large quantizes of human chorionic gonadotropin present in his blood then there was a good possibility that he was... No. Pregnant? He was pregnant? How could that be possible? This wasn't... He wasn't...
The paper slipped out of his numb fingers as the world faded into darkness.
December 29, 2007 - 2:25 PM
The geneticist grunted, curling into himself as he was hit by another painful contraction. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth together as fire spread through the lower half of his stomach. As awful as he felt, Mohinder had to wonder what his unborn child was going through. He couldn't help fearing the worst. Dr. Coolidge's words were still a presence in his mind and it made his skin crawl knowing that the longer he waited, the greater the danger for his child would be.
The Indian man let out a long breath as the contraction subsided.
It had been almost an hour since he had last seen Peter and he had to wonder where the young man was. Obviously he had not been able to avoid treating other patiences and was most likely taking care of someone else.
He stiffened when he heard someone softly rapping on the frame of his door. The geneticist hoped that it was Peter or someone who could administer an epidural. Mohinder grunted, shifting himself in his bed to face the new comer.
The color drained from his face when he saw Sylar's dark figure standing in the doorway instead.
Part 2
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder
Rating: R
Summary: This process takes several hours, but getting there took much longer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Slash, AU, Mpreg, Spoilers for Vol 4, Mild spoilers for Vol 5 (Just know who Emma is)
December 29, 2007 - 11:45 AM
Mohinder knew that something was wrong. His whole body had been flushed and tingling ever since he had rolled out of bed. His hands were trembled as he struggled through his morning routine and his mind kept drawing itself back to the feeling of discomfort that spread from the lower half of his stomach into his chest. The feeling came in short bursts, but the sensation was there and it unnerved him.
His eyes instinctively flashed to the clock mounted on his wall, wondering briefly if he should bother going in to work at all. He certainly did not feel up to driving a taxi for nine hours while his stomach turned on him. That was when the pain came again, stronger now and more insistent, as if telling him that these symptoms would not go away.
The geneticist groaned, pushing himself out of his seat and towards the phone resting on top of the small stack of papers on his desk. He knew what was happening -- even if it all felt so sudden, too soon -- and he knew what he had to do to take care of it.
Slim fingers quickly punched in the number that he had memorized by heart. He held his breath, counting the number of rings with mild panic as he waited anxiously for someone to receive his call.
"Hello?"
A wave of relief washed over the Indian geneticist at the sound of his friend's voice. "Peter," he started, his voice trembling slightly with anxiety as he tried to focus on his phone call, and not the way his body was suddenly turning against him. "Where are you?"
"I'm on my way to work," the young man said slowly, a slight hint of confusion in his tone.
"Good," Mohinder breathed, clutching the phone in his trembling hands. "Because I need you to take me to the hospital."
There was a brief moment of silence on the other line and Mohinder worried for a second that their call had dropped. "Wh... You mean it's time?" his friend stammered, panic growing in his voice.
"Yeah," he confirmed. "It's time."
March 24, 2007 - 2:04 PM
"Leave." Mohinder practically growled the word as he stood there -- body on edge, hands balled into tight fists, and the far too aggressive voice in the back of his head urging him to spring out and attack -- less than a foot between him and the man who had murdered his father.
Sylar smirked, quickly turning his attention away from Mohinder's tense form and gazing absent mindedly at a computer monitor. "I will when you start asking me nicely," he said, a far too cocky tone coloring his words. "What are you working on? A cure for yourself?"
Something inside Mohinder snapped at those words -- which wasn't much of a surprise since he snapped very easily now -- and he suddenly found himself closing the gap between them and punching Sylar square in the jaw. The taller man stumbled backwards, clutching his shattered mandible with both hands as he turned his dark eyes towards Mohinder.
"I told you to leave, so leave," the Indian hissed. "This is my lab and I don't want you here!"
The serial killer was quiet as he waited for his face to heal. The sound of bones mending together and being pushed back in their proper place made Mohinder's stomach churn with displeasure.
"Well my father owns this building," Sylar shot back, wiping the blood off of his of mouth with the back of his sleeve. "So I'll go where ever I damn well please."
Mohinder gave out a sharp laugh at that statement. The idea of Sylar being the Petrellis' long lost son was ridiculous to say the least. He wasn't about to even entertain the thought until he saw some hard evidence to prove such a ludicrous statement and he knew deep inside that Sylar didn't really believe it either. Sylar was many things, but -- as reluctant as he was to admit it -- the serial killer was not stupid
"Well daddy isn't here to help you," Mohinder growled, shoving at the larger man's shoulder with just enough force to make him stumble and leave a temporary bruise. "So I suggest you get out of here before I break something off!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Sylar flicked his wrist in his direction and Mohinder found himself being flung backwards. The geneticist grunted as his already aching body slammed into a metal filing cabinet, crushing it like a tin can. "I'll leave when I'm ready," Sylar hissed.
The Indian gritted his teeth and got up on his slightly trembling feet quickly. Marching towards the tall American, he found himself wrapping his strong hand around Sylar's neck, slamming the man's back roughly against his desk and...
Dear gods. He didn't remember Sylar smelling this good or his body being so warm or...
The American gave him a curious look, cocking his head to the side before Mohinder bent down and pressed their lips together in a hungry, desperate kiss. Mohinder knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew he should have just thrown Sylar out of his lab, but he was so lonely. His body was in constant pain, his mind was falling apart, and all of his friends and acquaintances had turned their backs on him. He needed someone, anyone to touch, to feel, to tell him that he was still alive and when he was gone he would be missed and wasn't fate cruel to have that someone be Sylar.
The murderer stiffened in surprise at the unusual contact, but he quickly relaxed into his touch. "Oh Doctor," he practically purred when they parted briefly to fill their burning lungs with much needed oxygen. "You are a kinky one. I hope you know there are cameras all over your lab. Someone will see us."
"Let them watch," Mohinder growled, pinning the taller man's body underneath his and diving down for another kiss.
December 29, 2007 - 12:55 PM
Mohinder frowned as he listened to the recorded message on the other end of the line. It was the sixth time he had tried to call his mother and she still wasn't picking up. He sighed, tapping the phone to his head as he struggled to decide whether he should leave a message or hang up and try again. He felt guilty enough as it was having this child -- her grandchild -- in another country. At that moment he wished more than anything that the woman could be there. He needed her to guide him through this process, to tell him that everything was going to be alright.
The Indian gave another sigh when he heard the brief beep that told him to record his message now. "Mother, it's me," he began. "I'm at the hospital and..." His words slowly faded away as he looked around the cramped emergency room. Peter had left him there while he went to punch in and put his things in his locker and Mohinder suddenly felt very exposed and awkward in the room full of sick individuals. He couldn't blurt out that he was having a baby. The looks he would get... "Just call me back. Please."
As soon as his fingers hit the end call button, he was hit with another burning contraction. Mohinder grunted, screwing his eyes shut and cradling his swollen middle in his trembling hands. He didn't know how he was supposed to do this. He was only in the beginning stages of labor and already the pain was unbearable.
"It's the anxiety," Peter assured him, causing Mohinder to twist around in his seat.
Mohinder quirked a brow at the younger man's statement. "Telepathy?" he asked. Peter usually only borrowed powers that would directly help him with his job and, although reading minds was always a handy trick, he couldn't help wondering when and why he had borrowed that particular ability.
"Figured it would come in handy with your situation," Peter explained. "It'll be easier to communicate with the doctors and take care of all the paper work."
The geneticist nodded his head slowly; understanding creeping into his mind as the contraction slowly subsided. "So you say its anxiety?"
"It increases the natural pain that comes with labor," he told him. "The more anxious you are, the worse you'll feel. Just keep calm and everything will be okay."
"Easier said than done," he frowned, rubbing his stomach in soothing circles. "You're not about to have a human being ripped out of your body."
Peter shrugged, pushing a wheelchair in front of his friend and motioning for him to get in. "No, but I know the people here and I can assure you that you and your baby are in good hands. Now let me take you to your room."
"Not in that." Mohinder scowled at the chair Peter was offering him. He could still walk and the idea of taking a wheelchair away from someone who actually needed it did not sit well with him. "I don't need that. I can stand."
"Trust me, Mohinder, you need this," the other man assured him. His words were confident and firm, backed up by his experience and medical knowledge. Mohinder had never seen Peter this sure of himself. It was a bit startling, but he supposed it came with the younger man being in his natural environment. He felt a bit proud of his friend at that moment, even if he was getting on his nerves. "You may feel fine now, but when you get hit with another contraction, your knees will feel weak and your mind will be buzzing with so much pain you won't even remember your name, let alone how your legs function. Now just get in the chair and let me do my job."
Mohinder sighed and did as he was directed, slipping out of his seat and into the wheelchair. A faint blush spread across his cheeks as Peter began to push him towards the elevator.
"I'm putting you in the maternity ward," Peter said. "We might get a few weird looks, but if anybody asks, I'll tell them we were running low on beds and needed to put you in there."
"What about my doctor?" he asked.
"I'll have a friend check in on you," he told him. "She's one of the best doctors we have and she'll take good care of you."
"Is she a surgeon?"
"No, but we'll work something out. You'll need a C-Section so we'll try to find an opened surgical slot and fit you in."
Mohinder sighed, resting his head in his hands as Peter pushed the elevator call button and waited patiently for the door to chime open. "So does it feel strange being a nurse again?" he asked, trying to take his mind off of his situation.
Peter shrugged. He had been a paramedic for a while, believing that he would be able to have a more active position in saving lives, but eventually went back to the nursing field he'd been trained for. "At first it was, but..." He shrugged as the doors eased open and he ushered the two of them inside. "It's sort of like riding a bike. Only took a few days for me to get back into the grove."
"What made you want to make the change?"
The nurse sighed, pressing the button to their floor and brushing his long brown hair out of his face. "Being an EMT was just too impersonal," he said simply. "I mend people, keep them alive until we get to the hospital, then I never see them again. It was too much of a change from hospice care. I just needed to take care of people, you know? Help them through their pain and be more active in getting them back on their feet."
Mohinder smiled, reaching over his shoulder to grab his friend's hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "It's a perfect fit for you," he whispered, allowing the silence to settle on them as they approached his floor.
June 15, 2007 - 5:15 PM
Mohinder groaned when he was suddenly jerked awake by the strange rocking motion that seemed to surround him. His head buzzed and his mouth tasted like cotton. The last thing the Indian man could remember was being surrounded by Danko's men and tasered into unconsciousness. Yet he wasn't in Building 26. He was somewhere else entirely.
He frowned, blinking several times to try to clear the fog that had settled over his sleepy brown eyes. From what he could tell, he was in a car, strapped into the front passenger seat and driving towards the setting sun. He let out another moan, cradling his head in his hands as his heavy lids threatened to slip shut again.
"You're awake?" Mohinder turned his sluggish body towards the unfamiliar voice. He saw a pale skinned man with loose brown curls and sharp blue eyes staring at him before quickly turning back towards the road. "Sorry. This road is kinda bumpy, but it'll pass. Go back to sleep."
"Where am I?" he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep and his mind unable to focus.
"You're safe," the stranger assured him and said nothing else.
"I was... I was attacked," he went on, trying to put the pieces together, but something wouldn't let him. "Danko... Should I be in Building 26?"
"I broke you out."
"Why?" he whispered, slumping back against the seat that just seemed so warm and inviting to his worn out body. "Who... who are you?"
"A friend," the stranger told him, reaching out to stroke the Indian's cheek gently before pulling his hand away. "Just go back to sleep."
In spite of all the questions that still swirled in his mind, Mohinder actually found himself drifting off as he listened to the steady rustle of the air conditioning and felt his body relax to the vibrations of the car.
December 29, 2007 - 1:30 PM
Mohinder sighed, caressing his cell phone with the pad of his thumb and staring at the screen desperately. No calls, no texts, no voice mails. Nothing.
"She'll call," Peter assured him, filling out his chart and not bothering to look Mohinder in the eye. "Don't worry about it."
"It is late in India," he sighed, placing the phone on a nearby table. "She might be asleep."
Peter looked over at him then, his wide brown eyes softening with sympathy. "I'm sure that's it," he told him, pulling up a chair next to Mohinder's hospital bed. "If she knew that you were here, she'd definitely call you back."
"Or she could be ignoring me," Mohinder grumbled, resting his head in his hands. "I did wait a long time to tell her about this."
"That's not your fault," he said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You were scared and confused and didn't know how to handle this situation. Besides, she's your mom. She loves you."
The geneticist frowned. He hated being treated like this. Even if Peter meant well, it still got under his skin to be pitied and coddled like a child. "Don't you have other patients to take care of?" Mohinder asked, trying not to make his words sound too harsh since he knew that Peter was only doing his job as a nurse and a friend.
"Yeah, but I got a few of the other nurses to cover them for me," he explained giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You need me here, right?"
Mohinder was about to say something, about to ask if Peter had used his telepathy to convince the other staff members to do his work for him, but his words were cut off by another contraction. "Oh gods," he gasped, reaching out to grasp something, but instead turning his fingers to the sheets that were wrapped around his body. His back arched, his eyes screwed shut, and his mouth flew open in a silent scream. This one felt much stronger than the others. It felt as if someone were punching him from the inside.
"It's okay Mohinder," Peter soothed, grabbing his friend's shoulder and arm in his reassuring hands. "Just breathe. Come on, slow breaths. We're going to get through this."
The Indian man, moaned, gasped, and struggled to take in slow breaths to relax his body and calm the fire burning in his stomach.
"That's good," his friend said, running a hand through his hair. "You're doing good."
"Gods! I need an epidural," he breathed once the pain had subsided enough for him to think again. "Is there an anesthesiologist nearby?"
The younger man laughed, giving his arm a slight squeeze before getting up from his seat, grabbing his chart and stethoscope. "I'll go see if I can find someone to help you out," he assured him. "Just remember; stay calm and take slow breaths."
Mohinder nodded as his friend slipped out of his room. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his bed, rubbing soothing circles into his stomach and praying silently for his baby's health.
June 15, 2007 - 9:05 PM
The soft sound of water pattering against the window was the first thing that greeted Mohinder's ears. His eyes fluttered open slowly, catching the warm red numbers on the clock beside his head that read 9:05 before he flipped over to his side. His mind was still working in slow motion and it took him a while to grasp the fact that he was sleeping in a bed, in a motel room, instead of the car he had previously woken up in.
The cotton taste still clung to his mouth and his limbs were still sluggish with sleep, even as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the creaky motel room bed. As he rested his back against the head board, he found his eye lids slipping shut again and his head bobbing against his chest as his mind tried to pull him back into the world of sleep.
"Hey, wake up," a voice called out to him. "You haven't eaten in a long time. You gotta get something into your stomach."
Mohinder forced himself awake only to see the brown haired man who had been in the car with him now sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. The stranger's gaze softened as Mohinder's blurry eyes slowly began to focus on his face. "Where am I?" the Indian muttered, rubbing his face roughly.
"You're in a motel room in Canada," he whispered, rubbing his pale fingers against Mohinder's stubble covered cheeks. "You'll be safe here."
Mohinder frowned, pulling himself away from the stranger's touch. He couldn't wrap his head around this man. The stranger had risked his life to save him -- him, just him and not any of the other evolved humans trapped in Danko's fortress -- called himself a friend and treated him with such familiarity. Yet Mohinder could not recall ever meeting him before. "Who are you?"
"A friend," the man said.
Anger instantly flared inside of the Indian man's stomach at the stranger's cryptic words. "No. Not good enough. Who are you? Tell me."
The stranger sighed, pulling himself backwards slightly as if considering his options and not liking what he got. Mohinder felt his eyes widen and his skin lose its color as he watched the man's body bend and twist, reshaping itself until Sylar was now sitting on the bed with him.
"Oh gods!" Mohinder gasped, scrambling away from the far too familiar face as his heart raced with panic.
"Hey, calm down," Sylar snapped, raising a hand and holding Mohinder in place with his telekinesis. "I just saved your life, remember?"
"Why?" Mohinder asked, gritting his teeth as he struggled against the invisible binds. "What's going on? How did you even know I was in Building 26?"
"I'll answer your questions later," Sylar sighed, running a hand over his slicked back hair. "Right now, I want you to eat something for me."
"No!" he cut in quickly. "No, I want answers. Right now."
Sylar frowned, tightening his jaw in displeasure before pushing himself off the bed and retreating to the other end of the room.
December 29, 2007 - 2:02 PM
His phone started vibrating before Peter could find the anesthesiologist, but hearing his mother's voice was as soothing as any sedative. 'Hello? Mohinder?' his mother's panicked voice came, slipping into their native tongue in her worried state. 'Are you alright? Have you had the baby yet?'
'Not yet Mother,' he assured her.
'When did your contractions start?'
'At about ten o'clock this morning.'
'And you haven't had surgery yet?' The Indian woman clucked her tongue and Mohinder could practically hear her shaking her head the way she always did when she was upset. 'Tell me you've at least been given an epidural.'
The geneticist cringed at her words, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. He knew it wasn't his fault that things were progressing so slowly, but the fact that his mother was in a state of worry did not sit well with him. The last thing he wanted was to trouble the poor woman. 'Not yet,' he admitted. 'My nurse friend, Peter, is trying to find someone for me, but-'
'You poor thing,' she crooned, cutting him off before he could even finish his thought. 'How do the contractions feel? Are you in a lot of pain?'
'They're not so bad,' he lied. In truth, the pain was intensifying by the minute. He had to wonder if Peter's suggestion that the anxiety was the cause of his troubles was true, but he doubted it. After all, he was about to give birth with no birth canal. His baby was basically just pressing down on his organs and struggling to break free.
Their conversation was interrupted when a blonde woman in a white lab coat appeared in his door. She smiled politely, waving at him to gain his attention, and Mohinder knew right away that she was the doctor Peter had told him about.
'I have to go, Mother. My doctor is here.'
'Alright, but call me right back. I will stay awake until the baby is born.'
'Don't do that Mother. You need your rest. I'll be just fine.'
'A mother cannot sleep knowing her child is in pain,' she chided. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk her out of her decision. After all, he had inherited his stubborn nature from her, not his father as many assumed. 'I will be waiting.'
'Alright,' he relented. 'Goodbye Mother.'
'Goodbye Mohinder.'
He clicked the end call button and turned to give the young doctor his full attention. "Doctor Suresh?" she began, using her hands to sign along with her words. He knew then that the woman was hearing impaired. "How are you feeling?"
"Did Peter send you here Doctor...?"
"Coolidge," she finished, tapping the name stitched above her coat pocket. "Yes, he did. Sorry to keep you waiting."
He gave her a tight smile as she closed the door behind her. "Can I assume that you're 'special' as well?"
Dr. Coolidge nodded. "I can, uh, see sounds," she told him.
Mohinder raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her words, his natural curiosity taking over him. "That's... extraordinary."
She gave him a shy smile, her fingers tightening around her clipboard as she pressed it against her chest. "It was a bit frightening at first," she began a slight note of nervousness present in her tone, "but Peter helped me to... accept it."
He smiled at her words. Peter certainly did have a way of connecting with people.
"So, how long ago was your last contraction?" she asked, drawing Mohinder's mind back into the situation at hand.
"Not long," he told her. "About a minute or two."
Dr. Coolidge nodded, writing something down very quickly on her clipboard before raising her eyes to look at him again. "And how far apart are they coming?"
"About every fifteen minutes," he said.
She gave him another quick nod, placing her chart down before approaching the foot of his bed. "I just want to check your progress," she told him as she rolled up his sheets. Mohinder gasped and squirmed as she pressed her cold hands against his burning hot flesh. He watched as she frowned, pressing into his belly, trying to get a feel for where his child was and what position it was in. "Do you feel that pressure?" Dr. Coolidge began, squeezing lightly on his lower abdomen. "That's your baby's head. Normally, I would be checking to see how dilated you were, but since you don't have those... parts your baby is pressing down on your organs and trying to find a way out. If this keeps going, the baby might get caught and hurt itself.
"There's a surgical slot at about three o'clock. We'll perform a C-section then. The surgeon will make an incision along your bladder and pull the baby out. The process is very quick and the rest of the surgery will be spent sewing you back up."
Mohinder nodded along, allowing the woman to speak. He already knew the process and what it would involve, but his stomach still did back flips at the idea of being sliced open and having a part of him ripped out. It was the best thing for his baby, of that he was certain, but it still set him on edge.
June 15, 2007 - 9:25 PM
Mohinder frowned, thumbing through the manila folder Sylar had placed in his lap. His eyes widened when he opened the file and saw his entire life spread out before his eyes. Everything from his dental records to his application for citizenship was sandwiched between the sand colored folder.
"What is this?" Mohinder asked, pulling out what looked like a copy of his teaching degree.
"It's your file from Building 26," Sylar told him leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
"How did you get all this?" he whispered, finding a picture of himself from when he was only twelve years old.
"Let's just say I was doing an 'inside job'," Sylar shrugged.
Mohinder felt his frown deepened as he continued to flip through the papers that seemed to chronicle his entire life. "I don't understand," he began. "What does this have to do with...?" His words faded away when his eyes landed on a document that looked far too recent.
"Danko's men were doing experiments on you," the serial killer explained, noticing the document that Mohinder was now holding in his hands gazing at it as if he had been waiting the entire time for the other man to retrieve that piece of paper. "They also took blood samples and found-"
"Human chorionic gonadotropin?" Mohinder read; his heart hammering in his chest as his eyes passed over the words again and again.
"Yeah," Sylar sighed, slightly annoyed at being interrupted.
If Sylar kept talking, Mohinder didn't notice. All he heard was the sound of his heart beating and his blood churning as his stomach tied itself into knots. If there were large quantizes of human chorionic gonadotropin present in his blood then there was a good possibility that he was... No. Pregnant? He was pregnant? How could that be possible? This wasn't... He wasn't...
The paper slipped out of his numb fingers as the world faded into darkness.
December 29, 2007 - 2:25 PM
The geneticist grunted, curling into himself as he was hit by another painful contraction. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth together as fire spread through the lower half of his stomach. As awful as he felt, Mohinder had to wonder what his unborn child was going through. He couldn't help fearing the worst. Dr. Coolidge's words were still a presence in his mind and it made his skin crawl knowing that the longer he waited, the greater the danger for his child would be.
The Indian man let out a long breath as the contraction subsided.
It had been almost an hour since he had last seen Peter and he had to wonder where the young man was. Obviously he had not been able to avoid treating other patiences and was most likely taking care of someone else.
He stiffened when he heard someone softly rapping on the frame of his door. The geneticist hoped that it was Peter or someone who could administer an epidural. Mohinder grunted, shifting himself in his bed to face the new comer.
The color drained from his face when he saw Sylar's dark figure standing in the doorway instead.
Part 2