A Mylar Christmas Carol
Title: A Mylar Christmas Carol
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Written For: Christmas Carol Prompt for aunt_zelda and imaginedmelody
Beta: ladywilde80
Pairings: Sylar/Mohinder
Genre: Ansgt, I suppose, O.o
Characters: Scrooge!Sylar, Bob!Mohinder, Tiny Tim!Molly, etc.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Christmas Carol, Mylar Style, ^^
Word Count: about 6,384
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None, maybe excess fluff (for me)
Notes: Thanks goes out to ladywilde80 as always. I wouldn't have even attempted this without you! Hope you enjoy it aunt_zelda! I tried, not sure how well it came out. I tried to stick as close to the actual story as I could. Constructive criticism is always loved, comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but if I did, god, wouldn't that be fun?!
A Mylar Christmas Carol
Sylar counted his powers and his money in his head over and over again. Coins flew in the air, ink on a paper to tally it to the side. He loved to show off his powers, but when it came to his wealth he was very different.
He hid his money for the most part; he never bought anything too extravagant. He wore the same coat he’d had for an as long as he could remember, all black clothing, he was drab and monotonous, he liked things that way.
He glanced up to see his assistant, Mohinder Suresh, working quite slowly at his desk; procrastinating until the time he could leave for the day.
He frowned a bit; he didn’t care if it was Christmas Eve, Mohinder needed to work as vigilantly as always.
“Mohinder, something wrong?”
Mohinder jumped at the sound of his voice, pulling his eyes from the clock and glimpsing at Sylar, shaking his head a bit.
Those eyes were always so piercing, Sylar always found enjoyment in gazing into them. Sometimes, just sometimes, he swore his heart would start pounding faster than it’d ever done before when Mohinder captured him with of those dark eyes of his.
Mohinder was one of the few people that Sylar didn’t truly hate; he actually took pleasure in working with him. After all, he was gorgeous, and, in truth, not a bad person…
“Ah, no, just…It’s close to the time I am allowed to go.”
“Yes, you still have fifteen minutes. What’s your point exactly?”
Mohinder shook his head again.
“Nothing, sir.”
“Good, keep working then.”
A knock commenced the end of their discussion. Sylar glared at the intrusion before he hurriedly concealed all of his money and got up.
When he opened the door, he was presented with joyful little carolers who began to sing an upbeat tune. Sylar lost his patience for such drivel swiftly.
“Shut up! I do not want to hear your nauseating caterwauling!”
He slammed the door right on their faces, but they knocked again, continuing to sing. Sylar ripped the door open, flinging them aside with a wave of his hand.
“I said, be quiet!”
He shut the door again, letting out a sigh, ignoring the bewildered stare he was getting from Mohinder. He walked away from the door, but was stopped by another knock
He threw it open, about to raise some hell when he was struck with the happy face of his nephew, Peter Petrelli.
“Uncle Sylar!”
Sylar’s upper lip twitched as Peter invited himself in.
“What do you want, Peter?”
Peter gave him a lop-sided grin.
“I’m here to invite you to the family dinner, of course! I, we, would love for you to join us this year.”
“My answer is the same as every year before this, Peter. No.”
“Well, you can’t blame me for trying.”
Yes he could.
Peter turned his attention to Mohinder.
“Mr. Suresh, I trust you are doing well.”
“As well as can be expected! I’ve still got to get the food and presents for the children on the way home…”
Sylar grumbled, letting Mohinder know he was in the wrong, talking was not allowed until he was finished working. Both Mohinder and Peter shot him a look, though Mohinder’s was much more fearful. He had more to lose if Sylar really got angry.
“You should give him a bit more freedom, uncle! It is Christmas Eve.”
“It is just another day! Now, I said no to joining you tonight, so please, leave!”
“Alright, I won’t wear out my welcome. Merry Christmas, Mr. Suresh!”
“Ah, yes, thank you! Merry Christmas to you as well, Mr. Petrelli!”
Sylar was visibly annoyed at their well-wishing of Merry Christmas. He hated that, to him, the whole Christmas thing was just another reason to spend more money and an excuse to receive charity from people who were actually making something of themselves.
Before leaving, Peter turned, opening his mouth to say those words that Sylar couldn’t stand. He just ushered him with a scowl and a telekinetic push, slamming the door behind him. As if in awe, Mohinder just watched him silently.
“Get back to work.”
Mohinder did so, as quickly as he could. Sylar returned to his counting until the clock rang eight, time for him to let Mohinder go home.
“Sylar, sir, could I have my pay?”
Sylar absently nodded, counting out what was due to him, passing it to him. Mohinder took it in his hand, turning around hesitantly before gaining some courage, facing him again, biting his lip slightly.
“Sir, it is Christmas…”
“You want extra? This is why I despise Christmas. It’s just another reason to take money from the hard workers…”
Sylar sighed, running a hand through his hair before sorting him out a bit extra.
“Here. And I suppose you’ll want tomorrow off as well?”
Mohinder nodded and Sylar rolled his eyes, but nodded anyways. Mohinder beamed delightfully, something that, by some means, warmed Sylar.
“Thank you…Mer-…. Good night, sir.”
With that, Mohinder Suresh left, leaving Sylar alone with his beloved money and his rounds to make.
~~~~~~
Mohinder’s children were waiting for him right where he told them to. Tiny Molly with her crutches holding up her frail frame and her brother Micah beside her, both bundled up in the warmest cloths they owned.
Mohinder grinned and wrapped his arms around his children, kissing them both on their chilly cheeks, receiving happy little smiles for his display of affection.
“I got our money, children, now let us go and get our Christmas feast!”
They went from store to store, Mohinder going inside each establishment to get them their food; modest fractions compared to the supplies others bought, which consisted of small goose, some pudding and juice, as well as some fruit that was on sale. He also got them their presents, purchased in bulk because it was the only way he could afford it.
They made their way home, Mohinder carrying Molly so she no longer needed to burden herself on those crutches. When they opened the door, the rest of the children gathered around them, hugging Mohinder legs and waist, cheery expressions on their faces.
The house was always so festive around Christmas.
Matt walked out the kitchen, beaming as he saw Mohinder, giving him a welcoming hug. The two friends had been living with each other for years now. They both had kind hearts, Matt had needed some help, so they’d combined both of their strengths to create the family they had now.
Mohinder produced the food, which Matt and him would prepare together, tossing presents to each of their children.
They took the presents over to their makeshift tree, which was extremely small, but they considered it to be magnificent, one of their best ever.
~~~~~~
“Please, give me another week!”
The boy was running a hand through his long locks, fidgeting as though he had somewhere else to be. That alone annoyed Sylar.
“No.”
“Please!”
Sylar eyed him distrustfully.
“Four days.”
“But, sir!”
“Four. Days.”
The boy meekly frowned, nodding in defeat.
“Thank you, sir.”
Once Sylar got his money, he’d kill him, since he would lose his usefulness. Killing him would add another power to his collection; it wasn’t one he needed urgently so he’d sooner get some money first. What use was being able to see into the future if he couldn’t even face his past?
~~~~~~
Two men, both Japanese and looking misplaced in these foreign settings, stopped him on his way home.
“Sir, we’re here to ask you for donations on this Christmas Eve.”
The accent of the chubbier of the two was horrendous…
“Why don’t you go and learn English before asking for money?”
Christmas: just another excuse to steal people’s money. The other boy put a hand out to stop him as he tried to walk away.
“Please, the poor have it so hard around this season, any bit could help.”
“Are there not work houses where they can stay?”
“Yes, I’m sad to say there are.”
“Good, there they can work and actually provide something for this world.”
The two men gaped at him; Sylar pushed them aside using his prized telekinesis, hurling them hard into the wall and kept walking, heading home.
~~~~~~
Home, Sylar didn’t end up there until close to ten. Locking the door to his great, dreary mansion, he stepped up the stairs and towards his large bedroom. He suddenly heard a sound behind him, something similar to a jingle of carriage bells.
He turned around, something coming towards him from the left of the house, a ghostly image of a funeral carriage.
The figure on its seats spoke, an older man adorned with horn-rimmed glasses, his skin eerily vivid, tipped his hat to him as he glided by.
“Merry Christmas, Governor, Merry Christmas!”
It faded into the wall; the haunting representation chilled his very bones. Sylar shook his head, rubbing his eyes; he was beginning to see things. He knew what he had to do, he had to make himself some soup and then it was time to get some sleep, he’d be better in the morning.
Once he got to his destination, he started up the fire and warmed up some simple soup, eating it hastily. Halfway through, he heard the clacking of chains, considering that he, perhaps, was going insane.
Still, he was frightened by the workings of his imagination.
He locked the door to his room with just his mind, still unmoving, telling himself he should be eating, ignoring his fear, but he couldn’t budge to do so. The door unlocked itself, much like it would if he’d done it himself.
The door swung open, Sylar was staring at it, his eyes wide and terrified, the soup dropping to the floor in a spatter when he saw exactly whom it was that his mind was creating.
Chandra Suresh, his old partner and the reason why Mohinder was working for him now. The noise he’d heard had been the heavy chains decorating the man, who walked slowly, in order to move with the excess of metal.
“Sylar, aren’t you happy to see me?”
Sylar stood up, shaking his head, a disbelieving scoff on his face.
“No! There was a reason why I killed you…”
Chandra just smirked.
“Yes, there was. Money and power. That’s your entire life, is it not?”
Sylar didn’t reply, his partner, who’d actually founded the business he now ran, knew the answer.
“Why do you wear those chains, Chandra?”
“These chains were created by my mistakes in life, the times that I was cruel to my fellow man. I am damned to wear them for the rest of eternity, walking the Earth, never to rest.”
His pleased smirk widened,
“Yours is a long, heavy chain as well, Sylar. Much more refined than mine, you should be looking forward to seeing its wonder.”
Sylar eyes were narrowed quizzically before he laughed coldly.
“A chain? Why would I wear a chain?”
“Because you’re a despicable person, Sylar. You know the truth in it.”
“I fail to see how I do, Chandra. You are just a creation of my very over active, tired mind, that is all.”
“I am no made up specter, my old friend, I am as real as you are.”
Sylar waved a hand through the air. If he were real, he’d be thrown back into the wall. And for the love of God, he was…
Shocked, Sylar just let go of him. Chandra wore an irritated scowl.
“Your powers may work, Sylar, but it wouldn’t be intelligent to anger me. I’m only here to help.”
“Really? Why?”
“The reasons are of my own…”
He spoke as if he were almost regretful of his decision, thoughtful to the point of feeling bad about it.
“Tonight, you will be visited by three ghosts.”
“Ghosts? Like you?”
Chandra just smiled prepensely, causing a shiver to run down Sylar’s spine, before he started to walk out.
“Merry Christmas, Sylar.”
Sylar watched him disappear, the door closing behind him and locking just like it’d been before, leaving everything as it was, no hint of any incident.
“Of course…nothing did happen.”
Talking to himself, reassuring himself that he did not just see the ghost of a man he’d killed.
~~~~~~
He knew he would feel much healthier when snug and comfy in his bed, and he rushed to do so. He was dressed in a pair of simple black pajamas when he curled himself in his sheets, taking a long breath, pushing everything he thought he’d seen out of his head.
The sensation of his sheets being torn off him, cold air hitting him, and a very unpleasant voice yelling at him awaked him.
“Git up, yer stingy old man!”
Sylar’s eyes widened as he bolted up, staring into the face of what appeared to be a beggar man. His face was obscured by a scratchy beard, lines riddling his face. Sylar’s eyes narrowed, not even taking a second to ponder the bizarre question of how this man had gotten into his bedroom.
“I’m old?”
The man glared at him, smacking him up side the head.
“Git up! There’ll be no snarky comments from ya!”
Sylar did not appreciate being smacked and he was about to return the favor and make some nice incisions into the stranger’s body when the man grabbed his arm, yanking him up, and his room whirled past him.
He was standing in the middle of a new room, one he soon recognized to be the library at his old boarding school. The man was beside him; he’d let go of his arm and was now wiping his hand on his shirt. Sylar hated him.
“Who are you, where are we?”
“Name’s Claude. Ghost of Christmas Past. Weren’t ya told I was gonna visit?”
Claude judged him, rolling his eyes.
“Ah, ya just didn’t listen.”
He grumbled to himself,
“Why do I keep gettin’ the morons?”
Claude pointed over at a very studious looking boy who was reading a book. He was decked out in glasses, his hair smoothed back, wearing run down formal wear. Sylar’s eyes widened, this boy was him.
“What…”
“Ghost of Christmas Past. My, aren’t ya quick?”
Ignoring the sarcastic tone, Sylar understood, but he didn’t believe it. This just couldn’t be true, to be taken back to his days at school, those horrible days. He’d hated it here; he’d been unloved and lonely, abandoned here by his parents. That was, until the Christmas Eve his sister had come to take him home, if only for a little while.
That couldn’t be…?
“Brother! Gabriel!”
Sylar was so still, so stunned that Claude probably could have tipped him over with just a simple poke. Sylar watched his old self stand up and glance towards the entrance of the room, more happiness on the youthful face than should have been legal.
His sister ran towards the embodiment of weakness that was Gabriel, enveloping him in the first hug he’d ever gotten from her.
“Angela, what are you doing here?”
“Father has changed his mind, Gabriel! He wants you to come home for Christmas, to be with the family!”
“What, really?! He…He wants me there?”
“Yes, the carriage is outside, come on, hurry, before he changes his mind!”
Angela took Gabriel by the hand, practically running him out the door, both ecstatic.
Claude eyed Sylar, who was finally able to move again, and he did, towards the two leaving. He wished he could talk to them, but it was obvious in these ‘visions’ he had no way to interact with what he saw.
He stopped himself, shaking his head, glaring at Claude.
“What was the point of that?!”
“Your sister there, Angela, married the Mayor Petrelli, right? Had two kids; died giving birth to the second, didn she? Nathan and Peter. Your only family.”
“Yeah, so?”
Claude rolled his eyes again, whispering to himself.
“This ones thicker than the last…”
~~~~~~
Another change of scenery and they were in a large store lined with clocks and other mechanic workings. Sylar recognized it as the shop he’d worked at for a short time in the ‘old’ days. They’d dabbled in everything, from making carriages and fixing clocks to fashioning blueprints for boats and houses.
It had been one of the best times of his life.
“Gray, I think you’ve done enough work for today! It is Christmas Eve, get our of your work clothing and into something nice, my family and all our friends will be here soon!”
“I’m invited, sir?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you are!”
A silly smile spread across the face of an older Gabriel, who still looked as sheltered as ever.
Claude motioned towards the man who’d spoken to him.
“Bob Bishop, one a the most energetic men around, care free an’ exciting, wasn’t he? Something you’d never seen before. You liked him, didn ya?”
Sylar shrugged a bit, feeling sort of uncomfortable. Truthfully, Bob had been the only optimistic man he’d ever respected.
Sylar shuddered when the beginnings of music, violins and singing, became audible. Oh god, the party…
The hordes of people swarmed into the room, happiness exuding from every one of them, Sylar felt as if he would be sick. Gabriel was rather content, just standing in a corner, observing the merry making.
A woman confronted him, a spectacular, lithe woman. She was dressed in an extravagant baby blue dress, her long blonde tresses up and curled, bouncing behind her as she practically skipped.
She was Elle, Bob’s daughter, the girl that every man wanted to be with.
“Gabriel, won’t you dance with me?”
“Ah, Miss Bishop, no. I don’t dance.”
“Come now, Gabriel! It’s simple, just a step here, a step there.”
She was so hopeful, but Gabriel again declined her. So, she took the hand of the young man next to him and danced with him instead.
“That’s pathetic. Not even saying yes to a dance…”
Sylar growled a bit.
“I couldn’t dance…”
“No excuse! Either way, she didn stop running after ya. Don’t see why, but she was in love. And ya loved her.”
Sylar slowly nodded, admitting to it, he couldn’t say no. Even looking at her now, he loved her all over again. She was elegant, bright and blissful, and he’d let her go.
Why had he done that? So thoughtless, giving her up for money and rank. He hadn’t been able to see before now happy he could have been…
“Yer a blind fool.”
The truth in Claude’s words echoed through Sylar’s thoughts and if it weren’t for the whirlwind of memory assaulting him, he would have punched him.
~~~~~~
There Gabriel was, stiff and stern, working at his old desk. Sylar knew this moment; he’d run it through his head so many times. This was a nightmare. He looked towards Claude, his eyes wide, screaming to be let out.
“Gabriel?”
Sylar winced, turning towards the door to see Elle standing there, his stunning fiancé at the time.
Gabriel’s face lit up when he noticed her.
“Elle…”
“I heard you met a man, that you want to move to the city to work with him.”
“Yes, I did. His name is Chandra Suresh. He promised he could make me something. We could be rich and famous, Elle!”
“I don’t want to be rich, or famous. Gabriel, I just want to be with you, but you’re trying to force me to leave my parents. And I refuse to go to the dingy city, it’s horrible there, crime and violence every where. Do you truthfully plan to start a family there?”
“It’s what I want to do. If you don’t want to go, then don’t.”
Sylar whispered ‘no’; he hated watching himself making this mistake all over again. Claude again voiced what Sylar refused to say.
“Stubborn idiot…”
She advanced to his desk, laying down the golden ring he’d bought her.
“If you will not even consider what I have to say, I do not wish to become your wife any longer.”
Gabriel watched her, his eyes narrowing before he snatched the ring off the desk.
“Fine…”
Sylar practically broke; he longed to kill his old self right then. He didn’t want to have to go through this again., there was a reason why he’d thrown away his identity as Gabriel to become Sylar. He regarded Claude with a begging stare.
“No, take me away from here, I do not wish to see this.”
“Too bad, ya must, so you don’t repeat it.”
Sylar took a step towards him, hell bent on throttling him with his bare hands, but he disappeared right in front of him. Sylar twirled around, looking for the ghost but seeing nothing. No, he wasn’t going to be left here, was he?
His attention was pulled back to the scene when Elle’s begging tone stole into his mind.
“Please, Gabriel, think about what you’re doing. You’re exchanging me for money.”
He didn’t falter and she lowered his eyes, backing away towards the door.
“You only have this one chance to change your mind. Follow me.”
She walked right out. All Gabriel did was stand up, gripping the ring for a few seconds before sitting back down, going right back to work.
“No! Go after her!”
Sylar used his powers, trying to fling papers to the floor, to fling Gabriel into the bookshelf, but everything was motionless. He was powerless to do anything, and he hated it. He’d given up the only happy ending he could have ever had, the only person who’d loved him.
Sylar never got emotional, but going through all of this again was making him want to cry. He wanted out, and now.
“Claude, where are you! Make this stop, now!”
He heard laughter, towards the corner of the room; he raised a hand, squeezing in the air. His powers had worked on Chandra and he was sure they would work on this ghost.
He pondered the situation a bit as he felt about for the man. Claude had disappeared, did he have powers or did it just come with the territory of being a ghost? He finally felt himself grace flesh.
“Show yourself!”
Taking away more oxygen flow, Claude finally did, clawing at the unseen hands around his throat. Sylar smirked, advancing on him.
“I’m going to pay you back for this.”
Claude shot him a grin and suddenly he was back in his room, alone. Had he just imagined all of that? He glanced around, fuming; he’d wanted to hurt Claude. But, what if he’d just been dreaming it all? Was he losing his mind?
“Nah, you aren’t going insane. You’re merely being given a second chance.”
He curved towards the voice, a pretty, petite, blonde girl smiling at him, her gaze full of knowledge and intent. She was dressed in a long, billowing, multi-colored gown.
“Disorientating, isn’t it?”
Sylar had to agree with her, but for now he just watched at her, finally given the chance to comprehend what was going on. Ghost of Christmas Past, this would be Present, and then there’d be one for future Christmas’s. Chandra had been telling him the truth…
“Ghost of Christmas…Present, right?”
“You got it! Claire, nice to meet you.”
“Uh huh…”
“Not much of a talker, are you?”
She pouted a bit, as if she’d wanted to have a nice conversation with him.
“Well, let’s get going then.”
Claire grabbed his wrist and they were warped to the middle of the road. Sylar looked around, glancing at her, his eyebrow rising, asking her to explain why he was in his pajamas in the middle of a freezing street.
“We’re here to visit someone.”
She pointed towards the window and Sylar made his way to it, clearing some of the frost with his hand and peering inside, Claire doing the same beside him.
They were spying in on the Suresh-Parkman Feast, Sylar sort of felt as though he were a peeper because everything inside was so intimate and warm.
“What’s the point of this?”
“Impatient, aren’t you? Just keep watching.”
Mohinder and Matt were setting the food out, all that there was. Their portions were so tiny. Sylar felt his throat constrict, knowing what little food they had was his fault. Claire didn’t bother to hide her own observations.
“Wow, you could have given him a raise. Mohinder does a lot of work for you and look at how he lives!”
He could feel her sickened eyes on his face, but he ignored her and just kept watching.
Mohinder rose the small glass in his hand, signaling a toast, a brilliant smile on his face.
His heart caught in his throat at the arc of Mohinder’s lips. He had noticed how beautiful he was before, but now that he was in his own atmosphere he wore a glow around him that Sylar had never noticed before.
“To our best Christmas yet! And to Molly for her good health this year!”
“Here, here!”
Molly was smiling widely, a blush on her cheeks as they toasted to her. Sylar’s eyes rested on her, grimacing.
“I didn’t know Mohinder had a sickly daughter…”
“Mohinder took her in when he found her, she’d been abandoned by her family because of her health. And you give him barely enough to feed his family…”
Sylar glared at her, changing the subject again.
“Is she going to be okay?”
Claire caught his eyes, sadness in them.
“That depends on how much help she gets.”
She turned her head to gaze back inside, obviously not going to answer any more questions and Sylar went back to his inspection.
“I also want to toast to the man who made this feast possible. Let us toast to Sylar…”
The children all stopped, their joyful faces falling, but Sylar didn’t notice, he was too busy grinning with pride.
“At least he knows the reason why he’s able to afford that food he’s got there…”
Matt practically slammed his drink onto the wooden table, his eyes bearing down on Mohinder as if he were shaming their family.
“Don’t you dare ruin this Christmas with any mention of his name, Mohinder! The reason we have this feast is because of your hard work, not that man! He hardly gives you enough money for us to live by and you want us to thank him?!”
“Matt, I have a better job than most. It’s true he works me hard with little results but we have a house, don’t we? Shelter? All because he was courteous enough to give me the job my father once had.”
“You deserve so much better, Mohinder.”
Mohinder smiled, nodding.
“That’s true. Sylar is definitely not the most perfect boss I could wish for, but still, he does a lot for this family. He’s more caring than people believe him to be. Do this one thing for me, please?”
Matt scowled, but gave in. He raised his glass,
“I’ll drink to you, Mohinder, and to Sylar, if it makes you happy.”
The children all did the same, ready to do anything to please their father.
Sylar pulled his eyes away, straightening his back, glancing at Claire who had her hands on her hips, gazing at him fiercely. Sylar bit his lips slightly, shrugging.
“I suppose he deserves a raise…”
“How much?”
“…Substantial.”
She let out a hmph,
“It’d better be.”
She gazed back at Mohinder through the window, smiling a bit.
“He sure does like you, doesn’t he? Even if you’re rather nasty to him.”
“Yeah, I suppose he does.”
“And you do as well.”
Sylar eyed her, his eyebrows rising, wondering what exactly she was getting at.
She threw her hands up, sighing in despair.
“God, you really are dense! Just like a playground bully.”
“What?”
“Oh never mind, you’ll figure it out in the end, I’m sure.”
~~~~~~
“Welcome everyone, welcome!”
Sylar found himself looking at his nephew’s too jovial face again, a wide grin spread across his mug, just like always. His fiancé, Caitlin, stood beside him, a dumb smirk on her face.
Sylar had only met her once, but his first impression was that she couldn’t think for herself and needed a man to survive; he held nothing but contempt for her.
The room was filled with friends of the Petrelli’s, and he knew there’d be more people if Nathan had survived past sixteen.
“I’m glad to see everyone’s here! Well, most everyone.”
Caitlin frowned at him.
“Oh, Peter, he never comes, you know that. Why do you even bother asking him every year?”
“Caitlin, I know he’s a mean, miserly man, but he’s my uncle! And I do love him.”
Peter did care about him; Sylar knew that and even if he didn’t visibly return the feelings, so did he. Mostly because he was the last remnant left of the sister whom he’d loved. It was unfair she’d died so young.
Someone from the crowd laughed at Peter.
“No one can understand why!”
Who was that?! Sylar would rip them apart…
Caitlin stepped closer to her future husband, spreading her hands out a bit to stop the discussion.
“No more talk of Sylar now, let us celebrate! It is Christmas after all.”
They all got up and cleared a space in the room, someone began to play a pretty violin, people finding their partners and dancing. This reminded him so much of Bishop’s party…
He didn’t want to think about that, though, it just brought bad memories. He’d lost so much, and he didn’t ever want to lose anything like that again, he wouldn’t let go of any more chances.
Then he realized, this was what these ghosts were trying to make him grasp. That he was giving up good opportunities.
There was a party going on, his own family’s party, and he wasn’t there. He’d refused to even show up. Losing another chance.
What other opportunities had he been forsaking?
To have a family, and to have friends. He could have struck up a friendship with Mohinder, as long as he never found out about the whole ‘killing his father’ thing, which he doubted he ever would.
He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.
Mohinder would be the perfect company, someone who would appreciate him for who he was, he’d worship the gifts he had. Maybe, he could become more. Sylar knew Mohinder could grow to love him. He was, perhaps, the only one left who could.
When he looked over at Claire, she was grinning widely. She gave him a shrewd wink before vanishing.
~~~~~~
He was now back home, standing forlorn again in his room, awaiting the third ghost he knew would arrive. It would be the Ghost of Christmas’s Yet To Come this time, something he was afraid of.
His future couldn’t be good, not the way he was now. He wanted to say he understood his mistakes, he’d fix them, to not make him go on this journey, but he knew it didn’t work like that.
He felt a presence behind him and he turned around rapidly, and there stood a man clothed in all black, a hood over his face and what appeared to be a sword sheathed on his back. Sylar narrowed his eyes, feeling a tendril of fear snake down his spine.
“Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?”
“Yes.”
The man spoke in a rough, clear voice with a hint of an accent. The hood was pulled down to show a Japanese man with his long, black hair tied back away from his face.
“Are you ready to see your future?”
“I am.”
The man just nodded.
~~~~~~
It was cold and snowing very lightly when they appeared at the cemetery. They were in the middle of a funeral. The coffin was of simple black was only a couple feet away, the people that filed forward to view the person inside were not very sad. If anything, most were fighting back grins and laughter.
Sylar knew exactly whom he was going to see in that casket.
Even anticipation could not stop his face from paling, almost enough to match the whiteness of his corpse.
His carcass was frozen in time, almost with a permanent sneer; he knew his life had been a waste. Sylar had become no one; his death had been the only thing notable in his entire lifetime.
A pang of remorse ripped through him and he again knew he had to change unless he wanted to die like this, where people were happier that he was dead than alive.
The casket closed and Sylar took a step back, peeking over at the man behind him, who stared vacantly right at him.
“I die unloved and unnoticed, I get it, are we done here?”
The man shook his head, gesturing over to another part of the cemetery. From where he was standing, all he could see was a lonely man dressed in a ratty coat in front of a very small cross.
Curiosity got the best of him as he speedily made his way towards the man, coming to a halt only when he was saw whom it was.
Mohinder stood there, his hands in his pocket and the most miserable expression Sylar had ever seen dragging down his striking face. Any hint of radiance that Mohinder usually carried had been snuffed out; all that was left was a shell of a man.
Sylar glanced at the cross, not surprised to see “Molly Suresh” carved onto the wood. A stab of guilt tore through his heart. His eyes rested back on Mohinder in time to see a lone tear streak down his face, one Sylar craved to wipe away.
He didn’t deserve this sorrow, Mohinder was a good person, and Molly was just a child. Sylar knew he could change this, he understood Claire’s words now, that her life depended on the help she received.
He had the power to prevent Mohinder’s grief, and he would use it, he’d give Molly all the help she needed and more.
Sylar hesitated to rip his eyes from Mohinder, his condition was so heart wrenching. He knew that the man before him wasn’t really Mohinder. He could go home and see that man, and he’d be the one to put a dazzling smile on his face.
He eventually looked back at the Ghost who had brought him here.
“I’m ready to change, I know what I have to do.”
The man didn’t even move.
“Take me home.”
The man gave him a quick smile before, like the others before him, vanishing and leaving Sylar yet again alone in his bedroom. This time, he’d been left with the realization that the time had come at last for him to change his ways.
~~~~~~
After he was properly dressed, he knew immediately just where he was going. He made a few stops first; gathering items he knew he’d need, forcing the shop owners to open up, giving them a wonderful incentive of money.
He purchased a great turkey and some toys for Mohinder’s children; he knew no Christmas would be complete without them.
After visiting Mohinder, he would go to his nephew’s and apologize for his actions as well, then he’d end all of the debts people owed him, he had enough money to last him a lifetime. Donating some of the excess money also sounded like the right thing to do.
He would do anything he had to do to change the future he’d been shown.
He hired two boys to go with him, carrying the things he’d procured, knocking on Mohinder’s door.
When Mohinder answered, Sylar swore that Mohinder was going to fall over in a faint. His hand went to his heart, a spark of something that Sylar couldn’t exactly identify flashing through his eyes.
“Sylar! What are you doing here?”
“Mohinder. I brought you and your family some gifts.”
“Wh-What?”
Sylar laughed at Mohinder’s completely understandable reaction, moving aside so the turkey could be taken inside the house as well as the presents, hearing the instantaneous ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ from the children.
“Mohinder, what’s going on?”
Matt was behind him in a second, a priceless expression of shock taking over his face. Sylar grinned, loving Matt’s reaction. Mohinder attempted to answer him.
“Um, Sylar, he, uh, Christmas…”
Sylar’s grin turned into a pleased smirk, glancing at Matt.
“I decided it was about time your family stop living in squalor. I brought food, gifts, and I am going to give you a raise. Also, Mohinder, I’m going to contact the best doctors in the city tomorrow to see to it that little Molly has a full recovery. She’ll be a normal, lively young girl again in no time.”
Mohinder was clearly astonished; he just looked at him as though he weren’t real. Sylar grabbed Mohinder’s wrist, pulling him closer to him, his eyes narrowed purposefully.
“I also have other business…Mohinder, I’ve learned that I can’t let chances slip from my grasp, and I’m not going to let you get away.”
“Sylar, what are you talking about?”
“I know the way you talk about me, I know you care for me. I want to give us the opportunity to be happy together.”
“To-Together?”
Mohinder let out a nervous laugh, hardly able to keep eye contact with Sylar.
“Don’t be absurd, Sylar, I…”
Sylar grinned mischievously, leaning towards Mohinder’s lips, taking them in his own swiftly, ignoring a gasp and a few awes he heard from the inside of the house.
Feeling Mohinder's lips was unlike anything Sylar could have ever imagined, their curves just welcomed him, like he was meant to do this. It was just absolutely perfect. Surely, Mohinder had to feel the same?
Sylar kissed him long enough to give Mohinder a chance to react. Sylar was worried when no response came, but, right when he was about to give up, Mohinder kissed him back.
He smiled through it, allowing the gesture to go on a bit more before he pulled away, gazing into Mohinder’s astounded eyes, feeling no breath exiting the man’s mouth.
“Is that a yes?”
Mohinder was perfectly embarrassed, his face bright red. Sylar felt his heart stop, nervous, but Mohinder soon gave him the sign he needed.
A small, simple nod was given and Sylar grinned, kissing him once more, knowing now he would never again be unappreciative of what he’d been given.
X-Crossed to mylar_fic and heroes_slash
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Written For: Christmas Carol Prompt for aunt_zelda and imaginedmelody
Beta: ladywilde80
Pairings: Sylar/Mohinder
Genre: Ansgt, I suppose, O.o
Characters: Scrooge!Sylar, Bob!Mohinder, Tiny Tim!Molly, etc.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Christmas Carol, Mylar Style, ^^
Word Count: about 6,384
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None, maybe excess fluff (for me)
Notes: Thanks goes out to ladywilde80 as always. I wouldn't have even attempted this without you! Hope you enjoy it aunt_zelda! I tried, not sure how well it came out. I tried to stick as close to the actual story as I could. Constructive criticism is always loved, comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but if I did, god, wouldn't that be fun?!
A Mylar Christmas Carol
Sylar counted his powers and his money in his head over and over again. Coins flew in the air, ink on a paper to tally it to the side. He loved to show off his powers, but when it came to his wealth he was very different.
He hid his money for the most part; he never bought anything too extravagant. He wore the same coat he’d had for an as long as he could remember, all black clothing, he was drab and monotonous, he liked things that way.
He glanced up to see his assistant, Mohinder Suresh, working quite slowly at his desk; procrastinating until the time he could leave for the day.
He frowned a bit; he didn’t care if it was Christmas Eve, Mohinder needed to work as vigilantly as always.
“Mohinder, something wrong?”
Mohinder jumped at the sound of his voice, pulling his eyes from the clock and glimpsing at Sylar, shaking his head a bit.
Those eyes were always so piercing, Sylar always found enjoyment in gazing into them. Sometimes, just sometimes, he swore his heart would start pounding faster than it’d ever done before when Mohinder captured him with of those dark eyes of his.
Mohinder was one of the few people that Sylar didn’t truly hate; he actually took pleasure in working with him. After all, he was gorgeous, and, in truth, not a bad person…
“Ah, no, just…It’s close to the time I am allowed to go.”
“Yes, you still have fifteen minutes. What’s your point exactly?”
Mohinder shook his head again.
“Nothing, sir.”
“Good, keep working then.”
A knock commenced the end of their discussion. Sylar glared at the intrusion before he hurriedly concealed all of his money and got up.
When he opened the door, he was presented with joyful little carolers who began to sing an upbeat tune. Sylar lost his patience for such drivel swiftly.
“Shut up! I do not want to hear your nauseating caterwauling!”
He slammed the door right on their faces, but they knocked again, continuing to sing. Sylar ripped the door open, flinging them aside with a wave of his hand.
“I said, be quiet!”
He shut the door again, letting out a sigh, ignoring the bewildered stare he was getting from Mohinder. He walked away from the door, but was stopped by another knock
He threw it open, about to raise some hell when he was struck with the happy face of his nephew, Peter Petrelli.
“Uncle Sylar!”
Sylar’s upper lip twitched as Peter invited himself in.
“What do you want, Peter?”
Peter gave him a lop-sided grin.
“I’m here to invite you to the family dinner, of course! I, we, would love for you to join us this year.”
“My answer is the same as every year before this, Peter. No.”
“Well, you can’t blame me for trying.”
Yes he could.
Peter turned his attention to Mohinder.
“Mr. Suresh, I trust you are doing well.”
“As well as can be expected! I’ve still got to get the food and presents for the children on the way home…”
Sylar grumbled, letting Mohinder know he was in the wrong, talking was not allowed until he was finished working. Both Mohinder and Peter shot him a look, though Mohinder’s was much more fearful. He had more to lose if Sylar really got angry.
“You should give him a bit more freedom, uncle! It is Christmas Eve.”
“It is just another day! Now, I said no to joining you tonight, so please, leave!”
“Alright, I won’t wear out my welcome. Merry Christmas, Mr. Suresh!”
“Ah, yes, thank you! Merry Christmas to you as well, Mr. Petrelli!”
Sylar was visibly annoyed at their well-wishing of Merry Christmas. He hated that, to him, the whole Christmas thing was just another reason to spend more money and an excuse to receive charity from people who were actually making something of themselves.
Before leaving, Peter turned, opening his mouth to say those words that Sylar couldn’t stand. He just ushered him with a scowl and a telekinetic push, slamming the door behind him. As if in awe, Mohinder just watched him silently.
“Get back to work.”
Mohinder did so, as quickly as he could. Sylar returned to his counting until the clock rang eight, time for him to let Mohinder go home.
“Sylar, sir, could I have my pay?”
Sylar absently nodded, counting out what was due to him, passing it to him. Mohinder took it in his hand, turning around hesitantly before gaining some courage, facing him again, biting his lip slightly.
“Sir, it is Christmas…”
“You want extra? This is why I despise Christmas. It’s just another reason to take money from the hard workers…”
Sylar sighed, running a hand through his hair before sorting him out a bit extra.
“Here. And I suppose you’ll want tomorrow off as well?”
Mohinder nodded and Sylar rolled his eyes, but nodded anyways. Mohinder beamed delightfully, something that, by some means, warmed Sylar.
“Thank you…Mer-…. Good night, sir.”
With that, Mohinder Suresh left, leaving Sylar alone with his beloved money and his rounds to make.
~~~~~~
Mohinder’s children were waiting for him right where he told them to. Tiny Molly with her crutches holding up her frail frame and her brother Micah beside her, both bundled up in the warmest cloths they owned.
Mohinder grinned and wrapped his arms around his children, kissing them both on their chilly cheeks, receiving happy little smiles for his display of affection.
“I got our money, children, now let us go and get our Christmas feast!”
They went from store to store, Mohinder going inside each establishment to get them their food; modest fractions compared to the supplies others bought, which consisted of small goose, some pudding and juice, as well as some fruit that was on sale. He also got them their presents, purchased in bulk because it was the only way he could afford it.
They made their way home, Mohinder carrying Molly so she no longer needed to burden herself on those crutches. When they opened the door, the rest of the children gathered around them, hugging Mohinder legs and waist, cheery expressions on their faces.
The house was always so festive around Christmas.
Matt walked out the kitchen, beaming as he saw Mohinder, giving him a welcoming hug. The two friends had been living with each other for years now. They both had kind hearts, Matt had needed some help, so they’d combined both of their strengths to create the family they had now.
Mohinder produced the food, which Matt and him would prepare together, tossing presents to each of their children.
They took the presents over to their makeshift tree, which was extremely small, but they considered it to be magnificent, one of their best ever.
~~~~~~
“Please, give me another week!”
The boy was running a hand through his long locks, fidgeting as though he had somewhere else to be. That alone annoyed Sylar.
“No.”
“Please!”
Sylar eyed him distrustfully.
“Four days.”
“But, sir!”
“Four. Days.”
The boy meekly frowned, nodding in defeat.
“Thank you, sir.”
Once Sylar got his money, he’d kill him, since he would lose his usefulness. Killing him would add another power to his collection; it wasn’t one he needed urgently so he’d sooner get some money first. What use was being able to see into the future if he couldn’t even face his past?
~~~~~~
Two men, both Japanese and looking misplaced in these foreign settings, stopped him on his way home.
“Sir, we’re here to ask you for donations on this Christmas Eve.”
The accent of the chubbier of the two was horrendous…
“Why don’t you go and learn English before asking for money?”
Christmas: just another excuse to steal people’s money. The other boy put a hand out to stop him as he tried to walk away.
“Please, the poor have it so hard around this season, any bit could help.”
“Are there not work houses where they can stay?”
“Yes, I’m sad to say there are.”
“Good, there they can work and actually provide something for this world.”
The two men gaped at him; Sylar pushed them aside using his prized telekinesis, hurling them hard into the wall and kept walking, heading home.
~~~~~~
Home, Sylar didn’t end up there until close to ten. Locking the door to his great, dreary mansion, he stepped up the stairs and towards his large bedroom. He suddenly heard a sound behind him, something similar to a jingle of carriage bells.
He turned around, something coming towards him from the left of the house, a ghostly image of a funeral carriage.
The figure on its seats spoke, an older man adorned with horn-rimmed glasses, his skin eerily vivid, tipped his hat to him as he glided by.
“Merry Christmas, Governor, Merry Christmas!”
It faded into the wall; the haunting representation chilled his very bones. Sylar shook his head, rubbing his eyes; he was beginning to see things. He knew what he had to do, he had to make himself some soup and then it was time to get some sleep, he’d be better in the morning.
Once he got to his destination, he started up the fire and warmed up some simple soup, eating it hastily. Halfway through, he heard the clacking of chains, considering that he, perhaps, was going insane.
Still, he was frightened by the workings of his imagination.
He locked the door to his room with just his mind, still unmoving, telling himself he should be eating, ignoring his fear, but he couldn’t budge to do so. The door unlocked itself, much like it would if he’d done it himself.
The door swung open, Sylar was staring at it, his eyes wide and terrified, the soup dropping to the floor in a spatter when he saw exactly whom it was that his mind was creating.
Chandra Suresh, his old partner and the reason why Mohinder was working for him now. The noise he’d heard had been the heavy chains decorating the man, who walked slowly, in order to move with the excess of metal.
“Sylar, aren’t you happy to see me?”
Sylar stood up, shaking his head, a disbelieving scoff on his face.
“No! There was a reason why I killed you…”
Chandra just smirked.
“Yes, there was. Money and power. That’s your entire life, is it not?”
Sylar didn’t reply, his partner, who’d actually founded the business he now ran, knew the answer.
“Why do you wear those chains, Chandra?”
“These chains were created by my mistakes in life, the times that I was cruel to my fellow man. I am damned to wear them for the rest of eternity, walking the Earth, never to rest.”
His pleased smirk widened,
“Yours is a long, heavy chain as well, Sylar. Much more refined than mine, you should be looking forward to seeing its wonder.”
Sylar eyes were narrowed quizzically before he laughed coldly.
“A chain? Why would I wear a chain?”
“Because you’re a despicable person, Sylar. You know the truth in it.”
“I fail to see how I do, Chandra. You are just a creation of my very over active, tired mind, that is all.”
“I am no made up specter, my old friend, I am as real as you are.”
Sylar waved a hand through the air. If he were real, he’d be thrown back into the wall. And for the love of God, he was…
Shocked, Sylar just let go of him. Chandra wore an irritated scowl.
“Your powers may work, Sylar, but it wouldn’t be intelligent to anger me. I’m only here to help.”
“Really? Why?”
“The reasons are of my own…”
He spoke as if he were almost regretful of his decision, thoughtful to the point of feeling bad about it.
“Tonight, you will be visited by three ghosts.”
“Ghosts? Like you?”
Chandra just smiled prepensely, causing a shiver to run down Sylar’s spine, before he started to walk out.
“Merry Christmas, Sylar.”
Sylar watched him disappear, the door closing behind him and locking just like it’d been before, leaving everything as it was, no hint of any incident.
“Of course…nothing did happen.”
Talking to himself, reassuring himself that he did not just see the ghost of a man he’d killed.
~~~~~~
He knew he would feel much healthier when snug and comfy in his bed, and he rushed to do so. He was dressed in a pair of simple black pajamas when he curled himself in his sheets, taking a long breath, pushing everything he thought he’d seen out of his head.
The sensation of his sheets being torn off him, cold air hitting him, and a very unpleasant voice yelling at him awaked him.
“Git up, yer stingy old man!”
Sylar’s eyes widened as he bolted up, staring into the face of what appeared to be a beggar man. His face was obscured by a scratchy beard, lines riddling his face. Sylar’s eyes narrowed, not even taking a second to ponder the bizarre question of how this man had gotten into his bedroom.
“I’m old?”
The man glared at him, smacking him up side the head.
“Git up! There’ll be no snarky comments from ya!”
Sylar did not appreciate being smacked and he was about to return the favor and make some nice incisions into the stranger’s body when the man grabbed his arm, yanking him up, and his room whirled past him.
He was standing in the middle of a new room, one he soon recognized to be the library at his old boarding school. The man was beside him; he’d let go of his arm and was now wiping his hand on his shirt. Sylar hated him.
“Who are you, where are we?”
“Name’s Claude. Ghost of Christmas Past. Weren’t ya told I was gonna visit?”
Claude judged him, rolling his eyes.
“Ah, ya just didn’t listen.”
He grumbled to himself,
“Why do I keep gettin’ the morons?”
Claude pointed over at a very studious looking boy who was reading a book. He was decked out in glasses, his hair smoothed back, wearing run down formal wear. Sylar’s eyes widened, this boy was him.
“What…”
“Ghost of Christmas Past. My, aren’t ya quick?”
Ignoring the sarcastic tone, Sylar understood, but he didn’t believe it. This just couldn’t be true, to be taken back to his days at school, those horrible days. He’d hated it here; he’d been unloved and lonely, abandoned here by his parents. That was, until the Christmas Eve his sister had come to take him home, if only for a little while.
That couldn’t be…?
“Brother! Gabriel!”
Sylar was so still, so stunned that Claude probably could have tipped him over with just a simple poke. Sylar watched his old self stand up and glance towards the entrance of the room, more happiness on the youthful face than should have been legal.
His sister ran towards the embodiment of weakness that was Gabriel, enveloping him in the first hug he’d ever gotten from her.
“Angela, what are you doing here?”
“Father has changed his mind, Gabriel! He wants you to come home for Christmas, to be with the family!”
“What, really?! He…He wants me there?”
“Yes, the carriage is outside, come on, hurry, before he changes his mind!”
Angela took Gabriel by the hand, practically running him out the door, both ecstatic.
Claude eyed Sylar, who was finally able to move again, and he did, towards the two leaving. He wished he could talk to them, but it was obvious in these ‘visions’ he had no way to interact with what he saw.
He stopped himself, shaking his head, glaring at Claude.
“What was the point of that?!”
“Your sister there, Angela, married the Mayor Petrelli, right? Had two kids; died giving birth to the second, didn she? Nathan and Peter. Your only family.”
“Yeah, so?”
Claude rolled his eyes again, whispering to himself.
“This ones thicker than the last…”
~~~~~~
Another change of scenery and they were in a large store lined with clocks and other mechanic workings. Sylar recognized it as the shop he’d worked at for a short time in the ‘old’ days. They’d dabbled in everything, from making carriages and fixing clocks to fashioning blueprints for boats and houses.
It had been one of the best times of his life.
“Gray, I think you’ve done enough work for today! It is Christmas Eve, get our of your work clothing and into something nice, my family and all our friends will be here soon!”
“I’m invited, sir?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you are!”
A silly smile spread across the face of an older Gabriel, who still looked as sheltered as ever.
Claude motioned towards the man who’d spoken to him.
“Bob Bishop, one a the most energetic men around, care free an’ exciting, wasn’t he? Something you’d never seen before. You liked him, didn ya?”
Sylar shrugged a bit, feeling sort of uncomfortable. Truthfully, Bob had been the only optimistic man he’d ever respected.
Sylar shuddered when the beginnings of music, violins and singing, became audible. Oh god, the party…
The hordes of people swarmed into the room, happiness exuding from every one of them, Sylar felt as if he would be sick. Gabriel was rather content, just standing in a corner, observing the merry making.
A woman confronted him, a spectacular, lithe woman. She was dressed in an extravagant baby blue dress, her long blonde tresses up and curled, bouncing behind her as she practically skipped.
She was Elle, Bob’s daughter, the girl that every man wanted to be with.
“Gabriel, won’t you dance with me?”
“Ah, Miss Bishop, no. I don’t dance.”
“Come now, Gabriel! It’s simple, just a step here, a step there.”
She was so hopeful, but Gabriel again declined her. So, she took the hand of the young man next to him and danced with him instead.
“That’s pathetic. Not even saying yes to a dance…”
Sylar growled a bit.
“I couldn’t dance…”
“No excuse! Either way, she didn stop running after ya. Don’t see why, but she was in love. And ya loved her.”
Sylar slowly nodded, admitting to it, he couldn’t say no. Even looking at her now, he loved her all over again. She was elegant, bright and blissful, and he’d let her go.
Why had he done that? So thoughtless, giving her up for money and rank. He hadn’t been able to see before now happy he could have been…
“Yer a blind fool.”
The truth in Claude’s words echoed through Sylar’s thoughts and if it weren’t for the whirlwind of memory assaulting him, he would have punched him.
~~~~~~
There Gabriel was, stiff and stern, working at his old desk. Sylar knew this moment; he’d run it through his head so many times. This was a nightmare. He looked towards Claude, his eyes wide, screaming to be let out.
“Gabriel?”
Sylar winced, turning towards the door to see Elle standing there, his stunning fiancé at the time.
Gabriel’s face lit up when he noticed her.
“Elle…”
“I heard you met a man, that you want to move to the city to work with him.”
“Yes, I did. His name is Chandra Suresh. He promised he could make me something. We could be rich and famous, Elle!”
“I don’t want to be rich, or famous. Gabriel, I just want to be with you, but you’re trying to force me to leave my parents. And I refuse to go to the dingy city, it’s horrible there, crime and violence every where. Do you truthfully plan to start a family there?”
“It’s what I want to do. If you don’t want to go, then don’t.”
Sylar whispered ‘no’; he hated watching himself making this mistake all over again. Claude again voiced what Sylar refused to say.
“Stubborn idiot…”
She advanced to his desk, laying down the golden ring he’d bought her.
“If you will not even consider what I have to say, I do not wish to become your wife any longer.”
Gabriel watched her, his eyes narrowing before he snatched the ring off the desk.
“Fine…”
Sylar practically broke; he longed to kill his old self right then. He didn’t want to have to go through this again., there was a reason why he’d thrown away his identity as Gabriel to become Sylar. He regarded Claude with a begging stare.
“No, take me away from here, I do not wish to see this.”
“Too bad, ya must, so you don’t repeat it.”
Sylar took a step towards him, hell bent on throttling him with his bare hands, but he disappeared right in front of him. Sylar twirled around, looking for the ghost but seeing nothing. No, he wasn’t going to be left here, was he?
His attention was pulled back to the scene when Elle’s begging tone stole into his mind.
“Please, Gabriel, think about what you’re doing. You’re exchanging me for money.”
He didn’t falter and she lowered his eyes, backing away towards the door.
“You only have this one chance to change your mind. Follow me.”
She walked right out. All Gabriel did was stand up, gripping the ring for a few seconds before sitting back down, going right back to work.
“No! Go after her!”
Sylar used his powers, trying to fling papers to the floor, to fling Gabriel into the bookshelf, but everything was motionless. He was powerless to do anything, and he hated it. He’d given up the only happy ending he could have ever had, the only person who’d loved him.
Sylar never got emotional, but going through all of this again was making him want to cry. He wanted out, and now.
“Claude, where are you! Make this stop, now!”
He heard laughter, towards the corner of the room; he raised a hand, squeezing in the air. His powers had worked on Chandra and he was sure they would work on this ghost.
He pondered the situation a bit as he felt about for the man. Claude had disappeared, did he have powers or did it just come with the territory of being a ghost? He finally felt himself grace flesh.
“Show yourself!”
Taking away more oxygen flow, Claude finally did, clawing at the unseen hands around his throat. Sylar smirked, advancing on him.
“I’m going to pay you back for this.”
Claude shot him a grin and suddenly he was back in his room, alone. Had he just imagined all of that? He glanced around, fuming; he’d wanted to hurt Claude. But, what if he’d just been dreaming it all? Was he losing his mind?
“Nah, you aren’t going insane. You’re merely being given a second chance.”
He curved towards the voice, a pretty, petite, blonde girl smiling at him, her gaze full of knowledge and intent. She was dressed in a long, billowing, multi-colored gown.
“Disorientating, isn’t it?”
Sylar had to agree with her, but for now he just watched at her, finally given the chance to comprehend what was going on. Ghost of Christmas Past, this would be Present, and then there’d be one for future Christmas’s. Chandra had been telling him the truth…
“Ghost of Christmas…Present, right?”
“You got it! Claire, nice to meet you.”
“Uh huh…”
“Not much of a talker, are you?”
She pouted a bit, as if she’d wanted to have a nice conversation with him.
“Well, let’s get going then.”
Claire grabbed his wrist and they were warped to the middle of the road. Sylar looked around, glancing at her, his eyebrow rising, asking her to explain why he was in his pajamas in the middle of a freezing street.
“We’re here to visit someone.”
She pointed towards the window and Sylar made his way to it, clearing some of the frost with his hand and peering inside, Claire doing the same beside him.
They were spying in on the Suresh-Parkman Feast, Sylar sort of felt as though he were a peeper because everything inside was so intimate and warm.
“What’s the point of this?”
“Impatient, aren’t you? Just keep watching.”
Mohinder and Matt were setting the food out, all that there was. Their portions were so tiny. Sylar felt his throat constrict, knowing what little food they had was his fault. Claire didn’t bother to hide her own observations.
“Wow, you could have given him a raise. Mohinder does a lot of work for you and look at how he lives!”
He could feel her sickened eyes on his face, but he ignored her and just kept watching.
Mohinder rose the small glass in his hand, signaling a toast, a brilliant smile on his face.
His heart caught in his throat at the arc of Mohinder’s lips. He had noticed how beautiful he was before, but now that he was in his own atmosphere he wore a glow around him that Sylar had never noticed before.
“To our best Christmas yet! And to Molly for her good health this year!”
“Here, here!”
Molly was smiling widely, a blush on her cheeks as they toasted to her. Sylar’s eyes rested on her, grimacing.
“I didn’t know Mohinder had a sickly daughter…”
“Mohinder took her in when he found her, she’d been abandoned by her family because of her health. And you give him barely enough to feed his family…”
Sylar glared at her, changing the subject again.
“Is she going to be okay?”
Claire caught his eyes, sadness in them.
“That depends on how much help she gets.”
She turned her head to gaze back inside, obviously not going to answer any more questions and Sylar went back to his inspection.
“I also want to toast to the man who made this feast possible. Let us toast to Sylar…”
The children all stopped, their joyful faces falling, but Sylar didn’t notice, he was too busy grinning with pride.
“At least he knows the reason why he’s able to afford that food he’s got there…”
Matt practically slammed his drink onto the wooden table, his eyes bearing down on Mohinder as if he were shaming their family.
“Don’t you dare ruin this Christmas with any mention of his name, Mohinder! The reason we have this feast is because of your hard work, not that man! He hardly gives you enough money for us to live by and you want us to thank him?!”
“Matt, I have a better job than most. It’s true he works me hard with little results but we have a house, don’t we? Shelter? All because he was courteous enough to give me the job my father once had.”
“You deserve so much better, Mohinder.”
Mohinder smiled, nodding.
“That’s true. Sylar is definitely not the most perfect boss I could wish for, but still, he does a lot for this family. He’s more caring than people believe him to be. Do this one thing for me, please?”
Matt scowled, but gave in. He raised his glass,
“I’ll drink to you, Mohinder, and to Sylar, if it makes you happy.”
The children all did the same, ready to do anything to please their father.
Sylar pulled his eyes away, straightening his back, glancing at Claire who had her hands on her hips, gazing at him fiercely. Sylar bit his lips slightly, shrugging.
“I suppose he deserves a raise…”
“How much?”
“…Substantial.”
She let out a hmph,
“It’d better be.”
She gazed back at Mohinder through the window, smiling a bit.
“He sure does like you, doesn’t he? Even if you’re rather nasty to him.”
“Yeah, I suppose he does.”
“And you do as well.”
Sylar eyed her, his eyebrows rising, wondering what exactly she was getting at.
She threw her hands up, sighing in despair.
“God, you really are dense! Just like a playground bully.”
“What?”
“Oh never mind, you’ll figure it out in the end, I’m sure.”
~~~~~~
“Welcome everyone, welcome!”
Sylar found himself looking at his nephew’s too jovial face again, a wide grin spread across his mug, just like always. His fiancé, Caitlin, stood beside him, a dumb smirk on her face.
Sylar had only met her once, but his first impression was that she couldn’t think for herself and needed a man to survive; he held nothing but contempt for her.
The room was filled with friends of the Petrelli’s, and he knew there’d be more people if Nathan had survived past sixteen.
“I’m glad to see everyone’s here! Well, most everyone.”
Caitlin frowned at him.
“Oh, Peter, he never comes, you know that. Why do you even bother asking him every year?”
“Caitlin, I know he’s a mean, miserly man, but he’s my uncle! And I do love him.”
Peter did care about him; Sylar knew that and even if he didn’t visibly return the feelings, so did he. Mostly because he was the last remnant left of the sister whom he’d loved. It was unfair she’d died so young.
Someone from the crowd laughed at Peter.
“No one can understand why!”
Who was that?! Sylar would rip them apart…
Caitlin stepped closer to her future husband, spreading her hands out a bit to stop the discussion.
“No more talk of Sylar now, let us celebrate! It is Christmas after all.”
They all got up and cleared a space in the room, someone began to play a pretty violin, people finding their partners and dancing. This reminded him so much of Bishop’s party…
He didn’t want to think about that, though, it just brought bad memories. He’d lost so much, and he didn’t ever want to lose anything like that again, he wouldn’t let go of any more chances.
Then he realized, this was what these ghosts were trying to make him grasp. That he was giving up good opportunities.
There was a party going on, his own family’s party, and he wasn’t there. He’d refused to even show up. Losing another chance.
What other opportunities had he been forsaking?
To have a family, and to have friends. He could have struck up a friendship with Mohinder, as long as he never found out about the whole ‘killing his father’ thing, which he doubted he ever would.
He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.
Mohinder would be the perfect company, someone who would appreciate him for who he was, he’d worship the gifts he had. Maybe, he could become more. Sylar knew Mohinder could grow to love him. He was, perhaps, the only one left who could.
When he looked over at Claire, she was grinning widely. She gave him a shrewd wink before vanishing.
~~~~~~
He was now back home, standing forlorn again in his room, awaiting the third ghost he knew would arrive. It would be the Ghost of Christmas’s Yet To Come this time, something he was afraid of.
His future couldn’t be good, not the way he was now. He wanted to say he understood his mistakes, he’d fix them, to not make him go on this journey, but he knew it didn’t work like that.
He felt a presence behind him and he turned around rapidly, and there stood a man clothed in all black, a hood over his face and what appeared to be a sword sheathed on his back. Sylar narrowed his eyes, feeling a tendril of fear snake down his spine.
“Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?”
“Yes.”
The man spoke in a rough, clear voice with a hint of an accent. The hood was pulled down to show a Japanese man with his long, black hair tied back away from his face.
“Are you ready to see your future?”
“I am.”
The man just nodded.
~~~~~~
It was cold and snowing very lightly when they appeared at the cemetery. They were in the middle of a funeral. The coffin was of simple black was only a couple feet away, the people that filed forward to view the person inside were not very sad. If anything, most were fighting back grins and laughter.
Sylar knew exactly whom he was going to see in that casket.
Even anticipation could not stop his face from paling, almost enough to match the whiteness of his corpse.
His carcass was frozen in time, almost with a permanent sneer; he knew his life had been a waste. Sylar had become no one; his death had been the only thing notable in his entire lifetime.
A pang of remorse ripped through him and he again knew he had to change unless he wanted to die like this, where people were happier that he was dead than alive.
The casket closed and Sylar took a step back, peeking over at the man behind him, who stared vacantly right at him.
“I die unloved and unnoticed, I get it, are we done here?”
The man shook his head, gesturing over to another part of the cemetery. From where he was standing, all he could see was a lonely man dressed in a ratty coat in front of a very small cross.
Curiosity got the best of him as he speedily made his way towards the man, coming to a halt only when he was saw whom it was.
Mohinder stood there, his hands in his pocket and the most miserable expression Sylar had ever seen dragging down his striking face. Any hint of radiance that Mohinder usually carried had been snuffed out; all that was left was a shell of a man.
Sylar glanced at the cross, not surprised to see “Molly Suresh” carved onto the wood. A stab of guilt tore through his heart. His eyes rested back on Mohinder in time to see a lone tear streak down his face, one Sylar craved to wipe away.
He didn’t deserve this sorrow, Mohinder was a good person, and Molly was just a child. Sylar knew he could change this, he understood Claire’s words now, that her life depended on the help she received.
He had the power to prevent Mohinder’s grief, and he would use it, he’d give Molly all the help she needed and more.
Sylar hesitated to rip his eyes from Mohinder, his condition was so heart wrenching. He knew that the man before him wasn’t really Mohinder. He could go home and see that man, and he’d be the one to put a dazzling smile on his face.
He eventually looked back at the Ghost who had brought him here.
“I’m ready to change, I know what I have to do.”
The man didn’t even move.
“Take me home.”
The man gave him a quick smile before, like the others before him, vanishing and leaving Sylar yet again alone in his bedroom. This time, he’d been left with the realization that the time had come at last for him to change his ways.
~~~~~~
After he was properly dressed, he knew immediately just where he was going. He made a few stops first; gathering items he knew he’d need, forcing the shop owners to open up, giving them a wonderful incentive of money.
He purchased a great turkey and some toys for Mohinder’s children; he knew no Christmas would be complete without them.
After visiting Mohinder, he would go to his nephew’s and apologize for his actions as well, then he’d end all of the debts people owed him, he had enough money to last him a lifetime. Donating some of the excess money also sounded like the right thing to do.
He would do anything he had to do to change the future he’d been shown.
He hired two boys to go with him, carrying the things he’d procured, knocking on Mohinder’s door.
When Mohinder answered, Sylar swore that Mohinder was going to fall over in a faint. His hand went to his heart, a spark of something that Sylar couldn’t exactly identify flashing through his eyes.
“Sylar! What are you doing here?”
“Mohinder. I brought you and your family some gifts.”
“Wh-What?”
Sylar laughed at Mohinder’s completely understandable reaction, moving aside so the turkey could be taken inside the house as well as the presents, hearing the instantaneous ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ from the children.
“Mohinder, what’s going on?”
Matt was behind him in a second, a priceless expression of shock taking over his face. Sylar grinned, loving Matt’s reaction. Mohinder attempted to answer him.
“Um, Sylar, he, uh, Christmas…”
Sylar’s grin turned into a pleased smirk, glancing at Matt.
“I decided it was about time your family stop living in squalor. I brought food, gifts, and I am going to give you a raise. Also, Mohinder, I’m going to contact the best doctors in the city tomorrow to see to it that little Molly has a full recovery. She’ll be a normal, lively young girl again in no time.”
Mohinder was clearly astonished; he just looked at him as though he weren’t real. Sylar grabbed Mohinder’s wrist, pulling him closer to him, his eyes narrowed purposefully.
“I also have other business…Mohinder, I’ve learned that I can’t let chances slip from my grasp, and I’m not going to let you get away.”
“Sylar, what are you talking about?”
“I know the way you talk about me, I know you care for me. I want to give us the opportunity to be happy together.”
“To-Together?”
Mohinder let out a nervous laugh, hardly able to keep eye contact with Sylar.
“Don’t be absurd, Sylar, I…”
Sylar grinned mischievously, leaning towards Mohinder’s lips, taking them in his own swiftly, ignoring a gasp and a few awes he heard from the inside of the house.
Feeling Mohinder's lips was unlike anything Sylar could have ever imagined, their curves just welcomed him, like he was meant to do this. It was just absolutely perfect. Surely, Mohinder had to feel the same?
Sylar kissed him long enough to give Mohinder a chance to react. Sylar was worried when no response came, but, right when he was about to give up, Mohinder kissed him back.
He smiled through it, allowing the gesture to go on a bit more before he pulled away, gazing into Mohinder’s astounded eyes, feeling no breath exiting the man’s mouth.
“Is that a yes?”
Mohinder was perfectly embarrassed, his face bright red. Sylar felt his heart stop, nervous, but Mohinder soon gave him the sign he needed.
A small, simple nod was given and Sylar grinned, kissing him once more, knowing now he would never again be unappreciative of what he’d been given.
X-Crossed to mylar_fic and heroes_slash