One Missed Call
Title: One Missed Call
Rating: Pg-13 for suggested naughty thoughts and some rather interesting treatment of left-behind clothing.
Pairing: Mylar o' course!
Summary: Mohinder is once again trying to put his life back together after Sylar came and left his apartment after stealing what he needed to be cured of the Shanti virus. But the killer finds a way to pull Mohinder back in...only this time it may be something he'll deeply regret.
A/N: HUGE thanks to my main supporters,
iluvbsbkevin and
mabetini . Takes place about a week after the Mylar events of Powerless and uses promo and spoiler speculation for season three. This was started after a flash of inspiration at work one day while musing over the new promos. More to come if the muse stays *ties to a tree*. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine (They are Tim Kring's and NBC's) But sometimes I like to take them off the shelf and play with them for a bit.
Mohinder always had his phone with him no matter the time of day. Whether it sat on his nightstand as he slept, or if it resided in his front right pants pocket. Living in America made it an absolute necessity; working for the Company, even more so. So when he stopped at the bottom floor of his apartment building and realized he was without this means of outside communication, he ascended the steps of the building once more to retrieve it.
An annoyed thrust of a silver key into the doorknob that he not moments ago completed the process of securing was coupled with a soft sighing breath. Suresh moved into the apartment and made a beeline straight for his emerald green Verizon cellphone as it rested on his father's former desk. When slender caramel fingers grazed then grasped the surface of the object, he realized a small red light was flashing at the corner of the device. Upon flipping it open, Mohinder confirmed what that light signified: One missed call.
After accidentally running through the menu and ending up in the calendar function, Mohinder checked his voicemail. A palpable beat of silence began the recording followed by two seemingly innocuous words uttered out by the man who'd only a week prior, crashed into Mohinder's life once more.
"...Hello, Mohinder..."
There was always an added quality of fear and intimidation present for Mohinder when he heard that voice on a recording. It was perhaps due to the fact that Mohinder first heard Sylar on a recording made by his father. How the man had entered the younger Suresh's life. A deep inhale then the voice spoke again.
"It's been a week...it feels like longer though, doesn't it?"
No, to Mohinder it felt like mere hours had passed. The freshness of the killer's most recent intrusion still made the dark hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"I was so deeply unsatisfied with how our last encounter unfolded. God, how I wish I could have tasted you again. I've had that craving on my tongue since Bozeman. Or that I could have enjoyed Springtime in New York with you...but where I am now... it's quite warm, Mohinder. What was California like when you visited?"
At first, Suresh couldn't comprehend what the man was getting at. It seemed rather sloppy to actually admit where he was. Still, the message went on.
"I suppose that the reason I'm calling you Mohinder, is to thank you. If it weren't for the Company files on your laptop... I may have had to take more extreme measures to locate her again. That reminds me, I hope the little one is doing well."
Molly Walker was always a sore spot for Mohinder to deal with. Sylar's not-so-vague threat toward the little girl caused Suresh to start putting the rest of the killer's statements together. California. Company files. A girl. Oh, God...Sylar was once more after the one that got away: Claire Bennet. An innocent teenager whose ability could make Gabriel Gray a demigod.
"Hm. Well...I have to go. But don't worry Mohinder, after this I'll be heading back your way again. And you can give me the 'welcome home' that I deserve. I'll see you soon."
A resounding click then a moment of silence before his voicemail menu could be heard babbling on about the program's options. He was ashamed to admit how the promise of Sylar's eminent return made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Mohinder kept the phone in his hand as he moved off into his bedroom. Quickly, he glanced around to confirm that he was still alone before he knelt down in front of his dresser. He pulled open the last drawer and removed a stack of various shirts so that he could reveal what he came into the room for.
One neatly-folded, gray zip-up jacket. Pockets on the chest and long sleeves with a button at the end of each one. After Sylar made his escape, Mohinder realized he'd forgotten the article of clothing that the man removed for the taking of his rather unnecessary blood sample. Without being entirely sure why, Mohinder had grabbed the garment and hid it before it was collected by the people he works for.
Suresh lifted the jacket out slowly and carefully, almost as if it were crafted of porcelain and would shatter if handled in any other way. Mocha-colored thumbs traced the creases in every fold in the material. While still on his knees, Mohinder lifted the article of clothing close to his face and and deeply inhaled the remnants of Sylar's scent. There was a unique musk mixed in with lingering traces of what Mohinder believed to be his own aftershave at the jacket's collar.
This meant only that the man truly had made himself out home during his short stay at the apartment. Mohinder envisioned Sylar's lean-muscled form using his shower. Pale, dexterous fingers wrapped around the black Norelco beard trimmer he finally purchased after one too many nicks of his tawny skin compliments of cheap disposable razors. It made Suresh shiver with a feeling of personal violation. His space had been entered into and the very elements of his day to day life used without his consent.
And at this moment, Sylar could very well be an uninvited house-guest once more at the Bennet's residence. Perhaps he was drinking a beverage from her fridge or thumbing through her father's evening paper. Any of several seemingly harmless, average activities that with this man carried the menace of so much more. Gabriel Gray didn't only commit murders, he took lives. He took Zane Taylor's life physically in the act of murder and otherwise by stealing what Mohinder could only assume was his victim's personality as well.
That was what hurt Mohinder the most about their entire experience together...he had his hopes built so high that he'd found a companion. Someone to share in his life's work and the journey for fulfillment that he was now left mostly alone on. As unhealthy as it was though...Mohinder was always extremely flattered that someone like Sylar, a man who built himself up into something past the realms of genetic 'humanity' always seemed to be extremely interested in him. For more reasons than just that Mohinder could find them...there was always some spark of completely primal passion between them. As Mohinder reluctantly placed the jacket back in the drawer and piled his clothes on top of it to conceal it...it was because they had this connection that what he did next was likely one of the more heart-wrenching experiences of his life.
Mohinder brought his phone up in front of his eyes and and dialed a number he never thought he would use again. After two short rings, the other line picked up.
"Bennet."
Mohinder hesitated somewhat as thought for a split-second about hanging up. But unfortunately...his morals superseded any lingering desires to be near the killer...to feel the pressure of what a single thought could do to the Indian's vulnerable body.
"...It's Mohinder. Don't hang up, this is very important! ....Is Claire at home right now?"
Rating: Pg-13 for suggested naughty thoughts and some rather interesting treatment of left-behind clothing.
Pairing: Mylar o' course!
Summary: Mohinder is once again trying to put his life back together after Sylar came and left his apartment after stealing what he needed to be cured of the Shanti virus. But the killer finds a way to pull Mohinder back in...only this time it may be something he'll deeply regret.
A/N: HUGE thanks to my main supporters,
iluvbsbkevin and
mabetini . Takes place about a week after the Mylar events of Powerless and uses promo and spoiler speculation for season three. This was started after a flash of inspiration at work one day while musing over the new promos. More to come if the muse stays *ties to a tree*. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine (They are Tim Kring's and NBC's) But sometimes I like to take them off the shelf and play with them for a bit.
Mohinder always had his phone with him no matter the time of day. Whether it sat on his nightstand as he slept, or if it resided in his front right pants pocket. Living in America made it an absolute necessity; working for the Company, even more so. So when he stopped at the bottom floor of his apartment building and realized he was without this means of outside communication, he ascended the steps of the building once more to retrieve it.
An annoyed thrust of a silver key into the doorknob that he not moments ago completed the process of securing was coupled with a soft sighing breath. Suresh moved into the apartment and made a beeline straight for his emerald green Verizon cellphone as it rested on his father's former desk. When slender caramel fingers grazed then grasped the surface of the object, he realized a small red light was flashing at the corner of the device. Upon flipping it open, Mohinder confirmed what that light signified: One missed call.
After accidentally running through the menu and ending up in the calendar function, Mohinder checked his voicemail. A palpable beat of silence began the recording followed by two seemingly innocuous words uttered out by the man who'd only a week prior, crashed into Mohinder's life once more.
"...Hello, Mohinder..."
There was always an added quality of fear and intimidation present for Mohinder when he heard that voice on a recording. It was perhaps due to the fact that Mohinder first heard Sylar on a recording made by his father. How the man had entered the younger Suresh's life. A deep inhale then the voice spoke again.
"It's been a week...it feels like longer though, doesn't it?"
No, to Mohinder it felt like mere hours had passed. The freshness of the killer's most recent intrusion still made the dark hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"I was so deeply unsatisfied with how our last encounter unfolded. God, how I wish I could have tasted you again. I've had that craving on my tongue since Bozeman. Or that I could have enjoyed Springtime in New York with you...but where I am now... it's quite warm, Mohinder. What was California like when you visited?"
At first, Suresh couldn't comprehend what the man was getting at. It seemed rather sloppy to actually admit where he was. Still, the message went on.
"I suppose that the reason I'm calling you Mohinder, is to thank you. If it weren't for the Company files on your laptop... I may have had to take more extreme measures to locate her again. That reminds me, I hope the little one is doing well."
Molly Walker was always a sore spot for Mohinder to deal with. Sylar's not-so-vague threat toward the little girl caused Suresh to start putting the rest of the killer's statements together. California. Company files. A girl. Oh, God...Sylar was once more after the one that got away: Claire Bennet. An innocent teenager whose ability could make Gabriel Gray a demigod.
"Hm. Well...I have to go. But don't worry Mohinder, after this I'll be heading back your way again. And you can give me the 'welcome home' that I deserve. I'll see you soon."
A resounding click then a moment of silence before his voicemail menu could be heard babbling on about the program's options. He was ashamed to admit how the promise of Sylar's eminent return made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Mohinder kept the phone in his hand as he moved off into his bedroom. Quickly, he glanced around to confirm that he was still alone before he knelt down in front of his dresser. He pulled open the last drawer and removed a stack of various shirts so that he could reveal what he came into the room for.
One neatly-folded, gray zip-up jacket. Pockets on the chest and long sleeves with a button at the end of each one. After Sylar made his escape, Mohinder realized he'd forgotten the article of clothing that the man removed for the taking of his rather unnecessary blood sample. Without being entirely sure why, Mohinder had grabbed the garment and hid it before it was collected by the people he works for.
Suresh lifted the jacket out slowly and carefully, almost as if it were crafted of porcelain and would shatter if handled in any other way. Mocha-colored thumbs traced the creases in every fold in the material. While still on his knees, Mohinder lifted the article of clothing close to his face and and deeply inhaled the remnants of Sylar's scent. There was a unique musk mixed in with lingering traces of what Mohinder believed to be his own aftershave at the jacket's collar.
This meant only that the man truly had made himself out home during his short stay at the apartment. Mohinder envisioned Sylar's lean-muscled form using his shower. Pale, dexterous fingers wrapped around the black Norelco beard trimmer he finally purchased after one too many nicks of his tawny skin compliments of cheap disposable razors. It made Suresh shiver with a feeling of personal violation. His space had been entered into and the very elements of his day to day life used without his consent.
And at this moment, Sylar could very well be an uninvited house-guest once more at the Bennet's residence. Perhaps he was drinking a beverage from her fridge or thumbing through her father's evening paper. Any of several seemingly harmless, average activities that with this man carried the menace of so much more. Gabriel Gray didn't only commit murders, he took lives. He took Zane Taylor's life physically in the act of murder and otherwise by stealing what Mohinder could only assume was his victim's personality as well.
That was what hurt Mohinder the most about their entire experience together...he had his hopes built so high that he'd found a companion. Someone to share in his life's work and the journey for fulfillment that he was now left mostly alone on. As unhealthy as it was though...Mohinder was always extremely flattered that someone like Sylar, a man who built himself up into something past the realms of genetic 'humanity' always seemed to be extremely interested in him. For more reasons than just that Mohinder could find them...there was always some spark of completely primal passion between them. As Mohinder reluctantly placed the jacket back in the drawer and piled his clothes on top of it to conceal it...it was because they had this connection that what he did next was likely one of the more heart-wrenching experiences of his life.
Mohinder brought his phone up in front of his eyes and and dialed a number he never thought he would use again. After two short rings, the other line picked up.
"Bennet."
Mohinder hesitated somewhat as thought for a split-second about hanging up. But unfortunately...his morals superseded any lingering desires to be near the killer...to feel the pressure of what a single thought could do to the Indian's vulnerable body.
"...It's Mohinder. Don't hang up, this is very important! ....Is Claire at home right now?"