Fic: Where the Story Begins Again
Title: Where the Story Begins Again
Author: Maxinegray
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: Pain…
Spoilers: The finale of S3…
Summary/Prompt: It was as if Nathan Petrelli had dropped off the face of the Earth.
Word Count: Around 800
A/N: *shifts* I haven’t actually seen the last 5 Heroes Episodes but I heard what happened and blaah. Thanks to my pretty toy and beta mabetini .
Mohinder rubs his face tiredly, trying to concentrate on the screen. It’s been hard to focus in the past 2 weeks with Nathan suddenly making a disappearance. Matt and Bennet had seemed oddly more worrisome then expected, prying and curious about everything; asking questions about the Senator’s behaviour of late and what he’d been up to. Angela herself had paid Mohinder a visit, her cool demeanour broken, as she requested help in finding her son.
But there was nothing. It was as if Nathan Petrelli had dropped off the face of the Earth.
He stares at the screen blankly for a few more moments. It’s getting late, he should probably head to bed soon, start new tomorrow. This new list is going no where so far. He rises to his feet, and stumbles a few steps towards the kitchen. He’ll make some chai before bed…
A hand reaches out the darkness (he doesn’t even see it) grabbing the back of his neck.
Pain.
Mohinder isn’t even sure how he got on the ground, but he’s lying there facedown and moaning as the world fades in and out of focus.
It’s like his bones are cracking, breaking; Mohinder’s insides being moved around, wrenching and pulling at every nerve ending possible.
A tremor passes through his body, and he flips onto his back at one particular surge in an effort to relieve some of the agony, crying out in pain.
“Working on the list again, I see.”
He blinks rapidly trying to focus as he jerks through every new wave of hurt. Sylar swims into view, concentrating on a few files in his hands, seemingly oblivious to Mohinder at his feet.
“…….No” he whispers, then arches his back off the floor, grunting in an effort to be quiet as he’s hit with another spasm that feels like his ribs are being slowly torn apart. Sylar can’t be alive. Sylar is supposed to be dead!
“You like my new trick? The girl I took it from used it to save people, healing them of their injuries, making the pain disappear as if it were nothing. But pain goes both ways, doesn’t it Doctor?”
He looks up to make a retort, but Sylar narrows his dark eyes in concentration and more pain blossoms, wave after wave of agony. Mohinder slams his head backwards hitting the floor with a hard thump but he barely notices, his body screaming in anguish.
“I’ve learnt a lot of things in my absence.”
The fire spreading through him lessens to a degree, and Mohinder whimpers, eyelids fluttering open not even realizing he closed them. Sylar is back to staring at those papers, scanning through each one rapidly, as if he’s searching for some clue.
“Like a way to get rid of abilities.”
Panting heavily, Mohinder manages to move onto his stomach, painful tremors racing through his body like a freight train. Sylar is alive…and he’s here. Mohinder knows he needs to escape, to get out, to warn everyone, otherwise they are all dead. He’s not even sure if he can move his legs so he reaches out with one shaky arm and pushes himself along the floor. If he can just get to his bag...
“We won’t need to worry about that pesky super strength of yours any longer.”
His fingers just brush the strap of the bag. A little closer and he’ll be able to grab the gun placed inside it. He inches forward and his hand closes around the bag’s strap. Mohinder takes in a deep shuddery breath and…
The bag is yanked from his weak grasp and pulled upright into Sylar’s hands. “Ah ah ah” Sylar tsks, “What do you think you’re doing with that?”
Sylar opens the bag, stares inside of it, and raises his head; a disappointed, annoyed look crossing his features as he gazes down at Mohinder. Lowering his throbbing head to the floor in defeat, Mohinder realizes that the floor is damp with pain-wrought tears. Sylar pulls out the gun saying, “I thought we knew better then this.”
Mohinder hears the gun fly off somewhere, making a racket as it lands but he doesn’t bother to follow its trajectory. There’s no way he’d get to it in time. Then Sylar is crouching down next to him, running a hand over his tense shoulders. Sylar’s touch is soft and slow and with each stroke the pain diminishes, till the painful surges are gone and all that remains is Mohinder’s still shuddering, exhausted, worn-out body.
“They did something to me, Mohinder. Made me think I was somebody else. But I’m going to find them.”
Mohinder wants to speak out, to spit out harsh words, to ask why Sylar is here or better yet how is he still alive, but the room is getting darker on the edges, and it’s becoming very difficult to keep his eyes open. He whimpers when Sylar’s hand travels to the back of his neck, pinching sharply.
“And you’re going to help.”
And the pain starts all over again.
~
:)
Author: Maxinegray
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: Pain…
Spoilers: The finale of S3…
Summary/Prompt: It was as if Nathan Petrelli had dropped off the face of the Earth.
Word Count: Around 800
A/N: *shifts* I haven’t actually seen the last 5 Heroes Episodes but I heard what happened and blaah. Thanks to my pretty toy and beta mabetini .
Mohinder rubs his face tiredly, trying to concentrate on the screen. It’s been hard to focus in the past 2 weeks with Nathan suddenly making a disappearance. Matt and Bennet had seemed oddly more worrisome then expected, prying and curious about everything; asking questions about the Senator’s behaviour of late and what he’d been up to. Angela herself had paid Mohinder a visit, her cool demeanour broken, as she requested help in finding her son.
But there was nothing. It was as if Nathan Petrelli had dropped off the face of the Earth.
He stares at the screen blankly for a few more moments. It’s getting late, he should probably head to bed soon, start new tomorrow. This new list is going no where so far. He rises to his feet, and stumbles a few steps towards the kitchen. He’ll make some chai before bed…
A hand reaches out the darkness (he doesn’t even see it) grabbing the back of his neck.
Pain.
Mohinder isn’t even sure how he got on the ground, but he’s lying there facedown and moaning as the world fades in and out of focus.
It’s like his bones are cracking, breaking; Mohinder’s insides being moved around, wrenching and pulling at every nerve ending possible.
A tremor passes through his body, and he flips onto his back at one particular surge in an effort to relieve some of the agony, crying out in pain.
“Working on the list again, I see.”
He blinks rapidly trying to focus as he jerks through every new wave of hurt. Sylar swims into view, concentrating on a few files in his hands, seemingly oblivious to Mohinder at his feet.
“…….No” he whispers, then arches his back off the floor, grunting in an effort to be quiet as he’s hit with another spasm that feels like his ribs are being slowly torn apart. Sylar can’t be alive. Sylar is supposed to be dead!
“You like my new trick? The girl I took it from used it to save people, healing them of their injuries, making the pain disappear as if it were nothing. But pain goes both ways, doesn’t it Doctor?”
He looks up to make a retort, but Sylar narrows his dark eyes in concentration and more pain blossoms, wave after wave of agony. Mohinder slams his head backwards hitting the floor with a hard thump but he barely notices, his body screaming in anguish.
“I’ve learnt a lot of things in my absence.”
The fire spreading through him lessens to a degree, and Mohinder whimpers, eyelids fluttering open not even realizing he closed them. Sylar is back to staring at those papers, scanning through each one rapidly, as if he’s searching for some clue.
“Like a way to get rid of abilities.”
Panting heavily, Mohinder manages to move onto his stomach, painful tremors racing through his body like a freight train. Sylar is alive…and he’s here. Mohinder knows he needs to escape, to get out, to warn everyone, otherwise they are all dead. He’s not even sure if he can move his legs so he reaches out with one shaky arm and pushes himself along the floor. If he can just get to his bag...
“We won’t need to worry about that pesky super strength of yours any longer.”
His fingers just brush the strap of the bag. A little closer and he’ll be able to grab the gun placed inside it. He inches forward and his hand closes around the bag’s strap. Mohinder takes in a deep shuddery breath and…
The bag is yanked from his weak grasp and pulled upright into Sylar’s hands. “Ah ah ah” Sylar tsks, “What do you think you’re doing with that?”
Sylar opens the bag, stares inside of it, and raises his head; a disappointed, annoyed look crossing his features as he gazes down at Mohinder. Lowering his throbbing head to the floor in defeat, Mohinder realizes that the floor is damp with pain-wrought tears. Sylar pulls out the gun saying, “I thought we knew better then this.”
Mohinder hears the gun fly off somewhere, making a racket as it lands but he doesn’t bother to follow its trajectory. There’s no way he’d get to it in time. Then Sylar is crouching down next to him, running a hand over his tense shoulders. Sylar’s touch is soft and slow and with each stroke the pain diminishes, till the painful surges are gone and all that remains is Mohinder’s still shuddering, exhausted, worn-out body.
“They did something to me, Mohinder. Made me think I was somebody else. But I’m going to find them.”
Mohinder wants to speak out, to spit out harsh words, to ask why Sylar is here or better yet how is he still alive, but the room is getting darker on the edges, and it’s becoming very difficult to keep his eyes open. He whimpers when Sylar’s hand travels to the back of his neck, pinching sharply.
“And you’re going to help.”
And the pain starts all over again.
~
:)