Sins of the Father Chapter 1
Title: Sins of the Father
Rating: PG-13 [Violence, definite sexual overtones between Sylar and Mohinder]
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder
Characters: Sylar, Mohinder, later on Maury,Nathan, Matt, Niki, Molly and my own version of Sylar's dad.
Spoilers: Not really anything special, season 1 of course but also the Nightmare Man stuff from S2 is there but altered as another character doing it.
Word Count: First chapter is 1,830
Summary: Sylar's back in New York and he's out to visit an old friend who can help him find answers as to why he's powerless. The reunion is cut short as Sylar learns more about the mysterious Company and the truth about his father's life. There is a nightmare man and Sylar will be the only one who can stop him, no matter if they're related.
Author's Notes: I came up with this idea one day upon waking which I wish all fics were so easy. I wondered what if there was so much more to Mr. Gray than we think. So I came up with the details that would help explain how Sylar got the ability of intuitive aptitude, his relationship with his father, and gave me some fun Mohinder and Sylar scenes that may get a smut one shot once the story is done. There are flashbacks that weave into the story that typically allow Sylar to learn more about Company/father stuff. Enjoy!
Another day began with a fresh flutter of eyelids. Dark brown eyes that in the shadows of the room were nearly consumed by blackness. Pupils adjusted to the squalid motel room. His long lean body stretched out uncomfortably on the small hard bed. In the middle of the mattress, a busted spring protruded and annoyed him all night long. It left a rough, sore spot to the right of his spine.
A hand came out from under the cheap, threadbare wool blanket. Accommodations that were even worse than what he had in Texas. Fingers spread out and flicked in the darkness. Desperate for an overnight change, a reprieve from his current fate. Still, there was nothing.
He sighed heavily and slid off the low bed. A short walk across the crusty carpet and he was at the light switch. Slight trepidation occurred as the light filled the room. It had taken so much effort to even make it this far. Obstacles to overcome and the massive setback of being without the abilities he worked so hard for over the months.
From what he gleaned from Michelle, or was it Candace? It seemed as if people were once again meddling in his life. She or someone else had done something during his recent captivity. There was only one person who could help him find answers.
The nice thing about Brooklyn was the availability of non-descript motels where a person could stay with little to no questions asked. It made him miss the former sanctuary of his old apartment. Everything neat and ordered, a place where he could just be.
As he settled the bill with the aid of a credit card from the same dead man whose clothes he now wore. He felt an excited palpitation in his heart. Mohinder would help him figure out what happened and what could be done. Sylar emerged out onto the pavement and walked the long city blocks to Suresh's place.
In front of the building, he stopped in his tracks. There was no way of telling what could be up there. His nerves sparked to life which was hard to get used to again. Feeling so weak and anxious was something he'd almost forgotten. A hand moved uneasily through dark messy hair. The brisk chill in the air made Sylar shiver as he buttoned up the gray jacket.
With his hood pulled up over his head, he strode forward and entered the building. No one gave him a second glance in the musty, steep stairwell. Rather fitting as he really was merely ordinary. Just another figure in the hallway, Sylar stopped by that familiar door.
His head leaned forward as he concentrated. His attempt to use the enhanced hearing ability failed as no new sounds could be taken in. But, something did happen as he stood there.
First his vision blurred then doubled, and his legs weakened to the point where they could barely support his body. He gasped for breath and groaned a sick, guttural sound. The momentary bout of physical weakness shattered his body. Sylar grasped his chest, right above the massive stitches that held his skin together over the slowly healing wound. As he panted and felt his scarred chest he focused intently on each new breath.
After a few moments, he felt better enough to step toward the door. From his pockets he retrieved a few small tools for the occasion. A quick glance around confirmed his solitude as he set to work on the lock. Years of repairing the often complicated mechanisms found in clocks and watches easily prepared Sylar to deal with the likes of a standard door lock.
A few minutes later, Sylar was satisfied by the click and an easily turned doorknob. He stepped into the room where so much had gone down mere months ago. There was no trace of the betrayal or the fight. Even the walls and ceiling were as good as new. Repaired of all marks and several new coats of pain as well. He slid his right hand along the smooth wall as he walked into the living room.
There were papers scattered around the room. Each with different crayon-scrawled drawings all over them. He picked one up to get a closer look. A pair of glaring eyes with a strange symbol near them. Lots of red streaks around the eyes and all over the picture.
Sylar furrowed his brow at the utter randomness of it all before he put it back down on the table. One room was explored at a time as Sylar searched for clues as to what his old friend may have been up to. What he did find led to some intriguing conclusions. A detective's badge with the name Parkman on it and some clothes that were definitely not Mohinder's own. One rumpled blue shirt was picked up from the wooden floor, he held it tightly in his hands.
It felt cold, the person who wore it previously had not touched the garment in some time. The scent of Old Spice was still laced through the fabric as Sylar picked up on the scent he shrugged and the tossed the shirt aside. Back in the living room, the front doorknob was all too easily turned. Mohinder tensed up as he swung the unusually silent door inward.
Areas of the front room remained untouched but Mohinder could notice the small things that were just barely off. Quickly, he rushed over to his desk but his heart sank at the sight of the slightly ajar desk drawer. At the top of the drawer there were scratch marks around the broken lock. His dexterous fingers settled onto the drawer's edge and he haltingly pulled. Shadows evaporated as the dim light of the room slowly filled the space inside. Mohinder's throat constricted as he felt the bottom of the empty drawer.
He sighed as he glanced down, he noticed a shiny piece of jagged metal on the floor. After he picked it up, Mohinder found a more of them a short distance away and pieces of plastic too that were all entangled in wires. It was all that remained of Mohinder's phone in a heap on the mauve colored rug under his desk.
All new heartbeats were put on hold as the current one froze in fear in Mohinder's chest. It was very evident that he was not alone. Getting out of the apartment became his first priority as he turned to head back to the door. A sudden blur of movement was all that registered until hands grasped onto Mohinder's green shirt collar.
With a sudden jerk and a very audible pained gasp, Mohinder's body was slammed hard against the wall. A framed map on a piece of parchment fell and it's ornately carved frame cracked in two. Mohinder struggled as he shoved hard against his attacker. The grip on his shirt collar instantly slackened and an ear shattering scream was heard the moment Mohinder's hands found their way to the other man's chest. Sylar instinctively backed away, his hands in front of him to guard his chest and stomach.
Mohinder coughed as he took a few steps forward and lunged out, his arm swung out towards the intruder. Bone connected to bone as a set of tightened knuckles cracked against Sylar's jawbone. It sent Sylar reeling backward as he stumbled to the desk, a lamp got knocked off it and shattered on the floor. Each caramel colored bump of skin felt a slight burn of facial stubble.
He panted and turned to Mohinder and ran toward him, Sylar tackled him to the ground as they rolled around on the floor. Each traded blows and at one point Sylar jerked Mohiner's head against the floor while he grasped a handful of shorter dark hair. After the third time his head met the the floor, Mohinder shifted under Sylar and kicked him hard in the stomach .
Sylar grunted and fell back his lungs emptied in an instant as he coughed on his hands and knees. He frantically spit out some blood while his hands searched through the mess on the rug next to him. Hands grasped desperately for anything that could give Sylar any advantage. Finally, he found an object and so many had served him so well in the past. The book he he held tightly in his hand would as well.
In another quick blur, Sylar struck. Similar to what occurs in a car crash, everything slowed down for Mohinder in that moment. His attacker came into focus for the first time. Though the sound of the screams from earlier is what first hinted that Mohinder knew who was with him in the room. It wasn't until the glimpse of those dark, determined eyes that the thought concertized in his mind.
Man of science and logic that he was he should have deduced the complete impossibility of Sylar's presence. But the array of impossibilities Mohinder had witnessed kept that thought from entering his mind as the book slammed right into the side of his head. His eyes eyes rolled back into his head as he hit the floor in a heap. Sylar panted viciously, his body bent over with hands on knees as he gasped for breath. A few long strands of spit dripped down without a care as he glanced over at Mohinder's body.
He haphazardly wiped his mouth with his right arm and stood up straight. Slowly he prowled his way over to the body on the floor. Sylar peered down at his one-time friend to confirm that he was indeed out cold. His left hand moved through Mohinder's shorter, wavy hair, as he tested to see if he was faking. Since that's what Sylar would do.
His limp body never even twitched. Sylar smirked and got up, he moved to the open door and closed it shut all the way. He locked it up tightly and blocked the door before he once again stood over the other man's body.
An hour later, Mohinder felt dull throbbing pain. It spread from both temples out to the back of his head. He groaned and the vibrations of sound that were made tickled his achingly dry throat. There was pressure placed on other parts of his body than his head. Both arms, legs, and his chest, he realized were bound to the chair he sat in.
A moment passed as it all settled in, he grunted but even that was different. His lips parted as the cloth tied around his head forced his mouth open. After he breathed in, the scent and taste of Old Spice invaded his system. His eyes widened and his body shook violently with each sickened cough. Arms pulled hard against their bonds as his watery eyes blinked quickly to adjust to the low light in in the bedroom. He could hear soft deliberate footsteps getting closer from down the hallway.