Understanding [5/?]
Title: Understanding [5/?] - Reflection
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: Mohinder/Sylar, Ensemble
Spoilers: MASSIVE SPOILERS - Seasons 1 and 2
Warnings: Blood, violence, language. Standard Sylar warnings apply.
This Time: Mohinder angsts, Sylar puzzles, and we finally find out what happened with Nathan, Claire and Peter.
A/N: Beta'd by the endlessly encouraging ladywilde80, love you darling! Mistakes are all mine.
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Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Mohinder let out a long sigh as he collapsed into bed. It wasn’t a familiar one but it was definitely comfortable. He was currently in the Petrelli’s home in New York and his mind was in a daze. Had he really gone home only just this morning? Had he really found Sylar waiting for him in his kitchen? Had Elle nearly died? Had he felt that jolt down his spine as Sylar’s large frame had wrapped around his own, even when he thought he was about to die?
Nathan, Peter, how much pain had he inadvertently brought on them both? The only thing that was stopping Mohinder from weeping in despair was that, miracle of miracles, even with all that damage done, Claire’s blood had brought about a resurrection. Nathan Petrelli had returned to the realm of the living.
Claire and possibly Peter’s blood could raise the dead. Of all the strange abilities he’d seen so far this seemed the most unnatural. Religion was uncertain territory for Mohinder, being so scientifically minded while being raised with religion none-the-less. Still, bringing back the dead definitely fell into the religion category. He needed to think about all this but at the moment he simply didn’t have the energy.
Peter was fine, physically. He and his brother had been separated for four months while most everyone believed Peter to be dead. It was such a long time for the two men who had always relied so much on one another, despite having completely opposite personalities. After they’d all arrived at the Petrelli home Mohinder had been happy to leave them alone to talk.
Angela Petrelli had efficiently explained the cover story she’d worked up. They would tell people that Nathan had been moved to a secret location, in the care of the best doctors money could buy. No one would question the need for secrecy after the assassination attempt. Apparently no one other than some clandestine cleaning crew had seen the amount of blood Nathan had lost. Nathan could stay “in hospital” for as long as they needed, there had even been talk of faking his death. How questions from the hospital staff had been quelled, Mohinder didn’t know. All he did know was that Angela was desperately trying to keep what Claire’s blood had done a secret.
Claire had, herself, been determined to go public only a few short days ago. She found herself proud of her biological father for having had the courage to try. It was the first time he’d ever really impressed her. Obviously it hadn’t been a good idea, in retrospect, but at least they were all alive to fight another day.
The common consensus was that the Company must have sent the assassin. This had just become a war.
They arranged for Claire’s mother and brother to go deeper into hiding. It broke Claire’s heart but she wasn’t going to sit back and let these people hurt anyone else, refusing outright to go into hiding with them. As such she was staying with the Petrellis and tomorrow additional plans would be made.
Mohinder couldn’t spare much thought in his own mind for the Company right now. Thankfully he’d heard from Matt. Matt had needed to use his powers to nudge the process along but he’d gotten Molly out without incident. They were safe. Bob wouldn’t try and touch Molly for now, he still wanted to keep Mohinder on his side.
At least Mohinder knew what he, personally, was going to do as far as the Company was concerned. It would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done but he was going to go back to working there and pretend like nothing had happened. Whether the Company knew where he’d gone and who he’d been with or not, he was fairly certain they’d ignore it for now. They’d watch him like a hawk, Bennet too, but that was alright.
Facing Bennet again was an almost terrifying prospect but he knew now he had to do it. If they were behind Nathan’s shooting then they had crossed a moral line. He would find out the truth. If they had to he and Bennet would become spies in a war against this massive organization. This time, however, they would have more resources. They wouldn’t be alone.
It would certainly be easy for them to maintain a cold hatred for each other, to pretend they wanted nothing to do with one another. It was almost true anyway. So when they found the right moments they would work together at taking this machine down from the inside.
Yes, that foray into dangerous territory was the easy decision.
Sylar, on the other hand…
As Mohinder lay there in bed he tried to focus on absolutely anything else, but his mind kept sliding back down the slippery slope that led inexorably towards Sylar.
From what he understood Claire had taken charge after Sylar had disappeared with Mohinder. She’d had to knock Peter unconscious, unfortunately. Peter was a great guy but when his emotions got out of hand he was unable to control his power and nothing and no one meant more to Peter then his brother. Claire wasn’t sure why she had decided to hit Peter over the head with a surgical tray, but it turned out to be a surprisingly simple solution.
Afterwards, she’d fished Peter’s phone out of his pocket and called Matt. Peter had mentioned Matt and Molly when he’d come to her for help and so that was who she decided to reach out to. Matt had been in Molly’s room at the Company when the call came in. As soon as Molly heard that Mohinder was in danger she’d picked out his location.
Almost the moment Claire had shut Peter’s phone Nathan’s, forgotten on the bedside table, had begun ringing. It had been Angela Petrelli and Claire had hastily explained to her what had happened. She didn’t like the extremely manipulative matriarch at all but Angela Petrelli could help keep things quiet. Claire was determined to give Nathan her blood and she refused to accept any possibility except that it was going to work. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with covering up the truth; however, she also knew it had to be done for now. She hadn’t even needed to ask, Mrs. Petrelli had simply told her it would be taken care of.
To say that Claire wasn’t fond of Mohinder would be a massive understatement. Still, she also couldn’t leave anyone at Sylar’s mercy. So when Peter woke up to find Claire pulling a long needle full of blood from her own arm, intent on injecting it into Nathan, she’d relayed Sylar and Mohinder’s location. Peter’s hero complex came in handy and he’d managed to calm down enough to keep it together so long as his friend was in danger.
Mohinder didn’t know how he felt about all that except for the automatic and pervasive guilt, relief, shame and, even though he would deny it, regret as well. So many emotions writhed and tangled underneath his skin that he couldn’t sort himself out.
He knew with a disturbing amount of certainty that if Peter had not shown up when he had that Mohinder would have been utterly lost. As it was he could barely find himself among the wreckage. As much as he hated himself for it, when Sylar had been pretending to be Zane Mohinder had been intensely attracted to him. His intelligence, his constant stream of enthusiastic questions, his strange good looks. Mohinder knew, though he would deny it, that Sylar had caught him in those longing stares when he thought the other was oblivious.
All that had changed when Mohinder had learned just who his traveling companion really was. His path became single-minded. He couldn’t think about ‘Zane’, this was Sylar. He needed to stop this killer now and avenge his father’s murder. He’d been consumed by guilt for having led Sylar right to Dale Smithers. He should have seen Zane’s headache for what it really was, Sylar’s inability to properly control his newly stolen power.
There had been no room in his mind for thoughts of the man he had been getting to know. It was clearly all an act, a way for Sylar to get his hands on the list. Sylar might even have been getting a sick enjoyment out of messing with the son of one of his victims.
Mohinder had pulled that trigger knowing that Zane was a persona and nothing more. He’d known that he was saving countless innocent lives. He was fulfilling his duty as a son.
It was only afterwards, after Sylar had called looking for help and then slipped away as Mohinder dialed 911, that Mohinder wondered how much of Zane was real. It started then, the doubt. It was small because Sylar’s crimes were so large and they possessed so much strength, but the doubt was always there, if not consciously thought about. Then Sylar died at Kirby Plaza, or so he had thought, and there was no point in thinking about such things.
Then the second phone call came.
Sylar back, alive, and he was threatening Molly.
So much had happened after that there’d been no time to think. No, he’d been in various stages of shock and exhaustion ever since then.
It was only after this morning’s events that those thoughts had slowly surfaced back to his conscious mind. He remembered seeing ‘Zane’ sneaking his own sly glances. Realized that, impossible though it might seem, this ostensibly heartless serial killer had some sort of fixation on him. It couldn’t be anything near love, Mohinder knew the man couldn’t possibly be capable on it. The alternative, unfortunately, was much more terrifying: that his intentions were considerably crueler.
Now… now he didn’t know what to think. Sylar had been insistent, forceful, and yet surprisingly tender. It was a strange combination that didn’t fall securely into any category or definition that Mohinder knew of. Despite his deep-seated revulsion at being kissed by the man who had murdered his father, friends and so many others, he’d also immediately experienced a terrifyingly strong urge to return those kisses. Sylar knew this now; there was no doubt of that. Mohinder had barely spent a minute at the man’s mercy and he’d given in to the rush of endorphins, that surge of pleasure, the desire.
He would have given Sylar everything he wanted.
Afterwards, he would have hated himself.
Even contemplating it now he shuddered and felt himself losing control. How could he possibly live with this? Was he able to forget about those murders, to actually feel something for Sylar because his own hands were now covered in blood? How could he hate a man so much and still feel these things?
Why couldn’t he get Zane’s shy smile out of his mind?
How long before he had to face the man again? Not if, when. Where Sylar had gone, what had stopped him from killing Peter, no one could say. It was a mystery, not one the others had yet discussed. They were on their guard, but they were also going to give themselves time to get situated before indulging in speculation. Too much had happened, but Sylar’s return was inevitable.
Mohinder, however, had been able to think of almost nothing else. He’d insisted that his presence only put the others in danger. They wouldn’t hear of it though, Peter had even threatened to keep Mohinder there against his will. Mohinder’s knowledge had saved Nathan’s life, he couldn’t possibly have known Sylar would follow, couldn’t have known what would happen. Peter insisted that he would protect his friend. He would not take no for an answer.
Nathan was already making plans to organize their resistance, the ensuing secret war. The man had been dead just a few hours ago and yet he was already using his political mindset and skills to make plans. Mohinder couldn’t think much about that though. His thoughts were ravaged and consumed by Sylar.
He’d resigned himself to staying where he was. So now he was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was utterly exhausted and yet he was still unable to sleep.
It was going to be a very long night.
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Sylar had only teleported twice in his life. Now twice in one day. At least, he thought it was one day. Running a hand through his bristly hair he sighed as he studied the night sky. Teleporting like the Asian kid and Petrelli did was disorienting but that was about it. What this woman had done to him though… It had been like being sucked into a black hole. He’d felt stretched and compressed all at once. Then suddenly a release, a snap back to reality.
He’d found himself returned to the motel in the middle of nowhere. There was a cop car parked out front with yellow police tape strung around the area. He didn’t need to eavesdrop to know that they must be extremely confused. The roof of the room he’d rented was quite thoroughly wrecked and they weren’t likely to figure out how it had been so thoroughly destroyed any time soon. The detective that had arrived at the scene, however, was focused on the spot where he’d had Petrelli pinned. Splinters of wood lay discarded in a pool of blood that they would have to suspect was the result of a murder, for no normal person could survive that much blood-loss.
All this assuming that there hadn’t been any witnesses. Either way it hardly mattered.
Sylar watched from a distance for several long minutes, thinking back on what he’d been told, trying to decide how much he was willing to believe. Certainly he needed to find out if Petrelli really had ‘destroyed’ strain 138 of the Shanti virus. That was the one bit he could confirm easily enough, he supposed. The rest, however, was far more nebulous.
The mere fact that the woman had been able to deflect his most refined ability and been able to teleport him in a manner Sylar had never seen before were two convincing points in her favour. Surely if there was another Empath out there who was not from the future, especially one that powerful, someone would have heard of her. That was, of course, assuming it actually was a woman. Her gender and appearance might have been a deception in and of itself. Still, she’d certainly seemed confident and he hadn’t detected those telltale patterns in her heartbeat that would have indicated that she was lying.
Sylar scowled as he thought about Petrelli and what he had interrupted. He didn’t even really care about the man’s powers anymore; he just wanted Peter to die in agony for interrupting when he had.
Sylar closed his eyes, remembering the sweet taste of Mohinder’s skin. His spicy scent, the glorious moans of pleasure slipping out to reveal how the man truly felt despite doing everything he could to deny it. Then Mohinder suddenly kissing him back, just as aggressive, passionate. Sylar felt his body responding at the mere memory of it, even though it had lasted only a handful of seconds.
He balled his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms. Once he’d started, Sylar had been so intoxicated that he’d been prepared to act on his desires whether Mohinder was willing or not. Sure, he’d hoped to convince his gorgeous doctor, but he was certainly not going to be denied. Now though, he remembered the flutter in his stomach when Mohinder had reciprocated, how his blood had burned with passion. Mohinder’s determined resistance was intoxicating. No one stood up to him like Mohinder; but god, knowing without a doubt in that moment that Mohinder wanted him just as much had been the closest to pure bliss that Sylar had ever felt.
His eyes snapped open in shock as this revelation hit his mind. It had even been stronger than the thrill he felt when he acquired a new power. Sylar’s head spun wildly at the thought. How could such a simple, un-evolved man have so much power over him? It was utterly unacceptable and his survival instinct screamed at him to purge the weakness, but in this he was disgustingly helpless.
How had this happened?
He had to have Mohinder, his body ached with desire to see the other man pinned beneath him. Yet the idea of merely taking what he wanted suddenly left a bitter taste in his mouth. He told himself it really wasn’t an issue, Mohinder had already shown that he’d be easy to convince. Still, if it came down to it, could he still just take what he wanted like he would with everything else?
He was suddenly terrified that the answer to that question was ‘no’.
Sylar rubbed his eyes before shaking his head as if he could fling off those feelings with the gesture. This had to be the result of whatever that woman had done to him. There was no way one man could make him think such utterly weak and pathetic thoughts. He was off balance, not thinking clearly. Of course he wouldn’t let some feeble protesting stop him. The very idea was ridiculous!
He needed to clear his head, plan his next move. Petrelli would have taken them back to his brother, but after that… well Peter was a laughably predictable creature. They would retreat to what they considered safety: home, back to New York.
It would be a long flight but that was fine. He needed the time to cool off, decide what to do next. By the time he arrived he would have his head back on straight and a plan in mind. This moment of weakness would be long behind him.
Right?
Of course it would.
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Despite fighting through a stream of nebulous nightmares, Mohinder slept well into the next day. It was almost noon when he reluctantly dragged himself back to consciousness. Normally sleeping that long would have left him feeling mildly disgusted with himself but of all the reasons for self-loathing he had right now, sleeping in was right at the bottom of the list. Regardless, it had been an exhausting three days and his body had needed the rest.
After a long shower Mohinder emerged to find his clothes had been washed and pressed, probably by the Petrelli’s maid. The idea was utterly foreign to him but he was grateful to have at least the familiarity of his own clothing, without the filth and blood from the previous day.
After he finished dressing he made the bed out of habit before sitting down on the edge, letting his head fall into his hands. Clearly the others had decided to leave him alone for now and he wasn’t sure he wanted the presence of others at the moment. Now that he’d shaken off the lethargy of sleep his mind was spinning. Peter would only have to sneak a peak into his mind for a few seconds to get hit with a barrage of thoughts, mostly centering on Sylar and all of them highly embarrassing. If he was exceedingly lucky Peter would respect his mental privacy, but Mohinder expected that the other man wouldn’t be able to contain his concern or curiosity. He knew too well from living with Matt that telepathy was all too easy to use even accidentally.
He wouldn’t be able to hide upstairs forever, but he also couldn’t bear to have Peter pick up on what had happened. He couldn’t deal with the look of shock, confusion, revulsion or all three on the man’s face. Mohinder could hardly face himself! What would Peter think of him if he knew that Mohinder had been fervently kissing the man who had just nearly killed Peter for a third time? Not to mention that this time would have been far more permanent. There was no way Sylar would have taken pity on the younger Petrelli, especially not right then.
Easy as that, Mohinder’s thoughts were filled once again with nothing but Sylar. The terrifying fury that had filled the man’s eyes, Mohinder had seen him nearly trembling with rage as he shattered that chair. It was nothing short of a miracle that the other man had survived.
Right, and how had he? What happened to Sylar?
His gut twinged in worry.
Worry? Oh god-
As he placed the emotion he desperately tried to deny it. Surely it was worry over whomever could have been powerful enough to stop Sylar at that moment.
Anyone that saved Peter would be an ally though…
His thoughts betrayed him, his damned logic shattering that feeble argument into a million pieces tiny pieces. Hugging himself desperately, he let himself fall back onto the bed, burying his face into the feather-soft pillow. Tears leaked from his eyes as the crushing reality started to hit him.
He wanted to know what happened to Sylar. He didn’t want Sylar to show up again, didn’t want to face him, see him. Yet he also wanted to know that Sylar was still alive. Something inside of him wanted reassurance.
Maybe he was right, maybe I am broken.
The conversation played over and over in his head, words and actions, thoughts and emotions. Like a broken record he couldn’t stop, stuck on automatic repeat. It was almost like torture, and in a way that almost made him feel better. His masochistic urge to punish himself for what he’d thought, what he’d done, was being sated merely by reliving the events themselves.
How long he lay there replaying events, trying to make sense of the ocean he was drowning in, he wasn’t sure. Only that the knock on the bedroom door jarred him out of his reverie quite some time later. He closed his eyes, trying to will the visitor away, but the second pair of knocks was harder, more insistent than the last.
“Dr. Suresh?” The voice that filtered through the door was so clearly filled with concern that it made Mohinder’s stomach clench. He couldn’t hide any longer, he supposed. At least the interruption had briefly freed his thoughts from Sylar’s greedy grasp.
“Come in.” He called back softly, pushing himself into a slightly more dignified sitting position. He couldn’t wipe the tortured expression from his face but at least he could seem a little less pathetic.
To his surprise it wasn’t Peter outside his door. Instead it was the older Petrelli brother. Mohinder’s shock must have been written plainly on his face because as Nathan entered, shutting the door behind him, the man ran a hand through his hair and shrugged a little.
“Peter asked me to check on you.” He explained, “He didn’t come out and say it, but he thinks you’re specifically avoiding him. So here I am.”
Mohinder couldn’t find the words to answer, especially as he had been avoiding Peter. So he merely shrugged in response, not meeting the other man’s eyes.
“I never got a chance to thank you properly yesterday.” Nathan continued, leaning up against the chest of drawers. “You saved my life. Or brought me back from the dead. I really don’t understand it but if you hadn’t known it was possible I’d be dead right now so… a simple thank you seems horribly inappropriate. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, please, just ask.”
Mohinder let out a long breath; at least this topic was easier to deal with. Surreal as that thought might be.
“That’s very kind but I was just doing what I thought was right.” He explained, finally meeting Nathan’s eyes for a moment before settling his gaze back on the carpet again. “Besides, I nearly got Peter killed again. I can’t possibly-“
“You can’t blame yourself for that Doctor Suresh.” Nathan cut him off, folding his arms over his chest. “Sylar’s a madman and my brother wouldn’t leave anyone at his mercy.”
Mohinder just nodded, not really agreeing but not wanting to talk about Sylar.
“Right. Well there’s food ready in the kitchen whenever you’re feeling up to it.” Nathan offered, straightening up once again. “Peter will take you back home whenever you want. Though if you’re planning on going back to work...”
Mohinder let out a breath of air that almost sounded like a laugh.
“Don’t worry Mr. Petrelli, I’m on your side in this. I don’t know what Claire’s told you, but I have no love for the Company. Its… complicated. Aside from trying to find a cure for the virus, well I only joined up in the first place to help Noah bring the Company down.” The words were bitter. He’d been a fool to trust them, really. Now where was he? They’d turned him into a murderer! He couldn’t honestly put all the blame on them, but since the incident in California Mohinder had been realizing more and more how Bob and the others had been manipulating him from the start. Finding a cure was important, but not at this cost.
“Well we don’t have proof yet, but there really isn’t anyone else who could have known what I was planning to do and would be willing to kill me for it.” Nathan replied carefully, running a hand along his jaw. “Listen, while you’re here, be careful what you say around my mother.”
Mohinder quirked an eyebrow at this, straightening a little. He certainly hadn’t expected that, especially given where they were at the moment.
“You don’t think that she-“
Nathan shook his head and sighed, his gazing fixing on some spot out the window.
“I’m not really sure what my mother is capable of any more.” He explained, lines of pain carving themselves onto his face. “I recently learned that she was one of the founding members of the Company. She’s been willing to let a lot of horrible things happen, including letting Peter explode in the middle of New York. Maybe she didn’t have anything to do with, well with what happened in Texas, but we can’t risk it. I can’t trust that she won’t choose their side.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was the only thing Mohinder could think of to say. How do you respond to something like that? Nathan just shrugged a little. It was clear that he wasn’t comfortable talking about it, they all had things they didn’t want to discuss.
“Well I’ll leave you alone then, Doctor.” Nathan strode towards the door, but paused as his fingers brushed the handle. “We would enjoy your company and like to hear your thoughts though, if you’re feeling up to it. I don’t want to pry, but we’ve all been through hell lately. Dwelling on the past, well you only lose yourself in it. Trust me on that. I’ve been there.”
The sadness in Nathan’s eyes touched something inside of Mohinder. He didn’t know the elder Petrelli all that well, but the ghost of a tortured soul was suddenly glaringly apparent. They did say that misery shared was misery halved. Now Mohinder realized that he’d been selfishly hiding away while a man he considered his friend, and his family, were all suffering as well. Maybe he didn’t want to discuss what had happened but there was good he could do here.
Mohinder got to his feet, forcing himself to straighten his posture.
“Just Mohinder, please.” He told the other man, forcing his lips to twitch upwards a touch in some semblance of a smile as he held out a hand. Nathan gave him a searching look for a moment before reaching out and taking Mohinder’s hand in his own, his grip firm.
“Only if you call me Nathan.” He chuckled, just a little, and Mohinder felt his smile becoming somewhat more genuine.
“Well, Nathan, I think I’ll take you up on that offer of food.” He replied as they broke the handshake, “and then we can discuss our next move.”
Part 6
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: Mohinder/Sylar, Ensemble
Spoilers: MASSIVE SPOILERS - Seasons 1 and 2
Warnings: Blood, violence, language. Standard Sylar warnings apply.
This Time: Mohinder angsts, Sylar puzzles, and we finally find out what happened with Nathan, Claire and Peter.
A/N: Beta'd by the endlessly encouraging ladywilde80, love you darling! Mistakes are all mine.
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Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Mohinder let out a long sigh as he collapsed into bed. It wasn’t a familiar one but it was definitely comfortable. He was currently in the Petrelli’s home in New York and his mind was in a daze. Had he really gone home only just this morning? Had he really found Sylar waiting for him in his kitchen? Had Elle nearly died? Had he felt that jolt down his spine as Sylar’s large frame had wrapped around his own, even when he thought he was about to die?
Nathan, Peter, how much pain had he inadvertently brought on them both? The only thing that was stopping Mohinder from weeping in despair was that, miracle of miracles, even with all that damage done, Claire’s blood had brought about a resurrection. Nathan Petrelli had returned to the realm of the living.
Claire and possibly Peter’s blood could raise the dead. Of all the strange abilities he’d seen so far this seemed the most unnatural. Religion was uncertain territory for Mohinder, being so scientifically minded while being raised with religion none-the-less. Still, bringing back the dead definitely fell into the religion category. He needed to think about all this but at the moment he simply didn’t have the energy.
Peter was fine, physically. He and his brother had been separated for four months while most everyone believed Peter to be dead. It was such a long time for the two men who had always relied so much on one another, despite having completely opposite personalities. After they’d all arrived at the Petrelli home Mohinder had been happy to leave them alone to talk.
Angela Petrelli had efficiently explained the cover story she’d worked up. They would tell people that Nathan had been moved to a secret location, in the care of the best doctors money could buy. No one would question the need for secrecy after the assassination attempt. Apparently no one other than some clandestine cleaning crew had seen the amount of blood Nathan had lost. Nathan could stay “in hospital” for as long as they needed, there had even been talk of faking his death. How questions from the hospital staff had been quelled, Mohinder didn’t know. All he did know was that Angela was desperately trying to keep what Claire’s blood had done a secret.
Claire had, herself, been determined to go public only a few short days ago. She found herself proud of her biological father for having had the courage to try. It was the first time he’d ever really impressed her. Obviously it hadn’t been a good idea, in retrospect, but at least they were all alive to fight another day.
The common consensus was that the Company must have sent the assassin. This had just become a war.
They arranged for Claire’s mother and brother to go deeper into hiding. It broke Claire’s heart but she wasn’t going to sit back and let these people hurt anyone else, refusing outright to go into hiding with them. As such she was staying with the Petrellis and tomorrow additional plans would be made.
Mohinder couldn’t spare much thought in his own mind for the Company right now. Thankfully he’d heard from Matt. Matt had needed to use his powers to nudge the process along but he’d gotten Molly out without incident. They were safe. Bob wouldn’t try and touch Molly for now, he still wanted to keep Mohinder on his side.
At least Mohinder knew what he, personally, was going to do as far as the Company was concerned. It would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done but he was going to go back to working there and pretend like nothing had happened. Whether the Company knew where he’d gone and who he’d been with or not, he was fairly certain they’d ignore it for now. They’d watch him like a hawk, Bennet too, but that was alright.
Facing Bennet again was an almost terrifying prospect but he knew now he had to do it. If they were behind Nathan’s shooting then they had crossed a moral line. He would find out the truth. If they had to he and Bennet would become spies in a war against this massive organization. This time, however, they would have more resources. They wouldn’t be alone.
It would certainly be easy for them to maintain a cold hatred for each other, to pretend they wanted nothing to do with one another. It was almost true anyway. So when they found the right moments they would work together at taking this machine down from the inside.
Yes, that foray into dangerous territory was the easy decision.
Sylar, on the other hand…
As Mohinder lay there in bed he tried to focus on absolutely anything else, but his mind kept sliding back down the slippery slope that led inexorably towards Sylar.
From what he understood Claire had taken charge after Sylar had disappeared with Mohinder. She’d had to knock Peter unconscious, unfortunately. Peter was a great guy but when his emotions got out of hand he was unable to control his power and nothing and no one meant more to Peter then his brother. Claire wasn’t sure why she had decided to hit Peter over the head with a surgical tray, but it turned out to be a surprisingly simple solution.
Afterwards, she’d fished Peter’s phone out of his pocket and called Matt. Peter had mentioned Matt and Molly when he’d come to her for help and so that was who she decided to reach out to. Matt had been in Molly’s room at the Company when the call came in. As soon as Molly heard that Mohinder was in danger she’d picked out his location.
Almost the moment Claire had shut Peter’s phone Nathan’s, forgotten on the bedside table, had begun ringing. It had been Angela Petrelli and Claire had hastily explained to her what had happened. She didn’t like the extremely manipulative matriarch at all but Angela Petrelli could help keep things quiet. Claire was determined to give Nathan her blood and she refused to accept any possibility except that it was going to work. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with covering up the truth; however, she also knew it had to be done for now. She hadn’t even needed to ask, Mrs. Petrelli had simply told her it would be taken care of.
To say that Claire wasn’t fond of Mohinder would be a massive understatement. Still, she also couldn’t leave anyone at Sylar’s mercy. So when Peter woke up to find Claire pulling a long needle full of blood from her own arm, intent on injecting it into Nathan, she’d relayed Sylar and Mohinder’s location. Peter’s hero complex came in handy and he’d managed to calm down enough to keep it together so long as his friend was in danger.
Mohinder didn’t know how he felt about all that except for the automatic and pervasive guilt, relief, shame and, even though he would deny it, regret as well. So many emotions writhed and tangled underneath his skin that he couldn’t sort himself out.
He knew with a disturbing amount of certainty that if Peter had not shown up when he had that Mohinder would have been utterly lost. As it was he could barely find himself among the wreckage. As much as he hated himself for it, when Sylar had been pretending to be Zane Mohinder had been intensely attracted to him. His intelligence, his constant stream of enthusiastic questions, his strange good looks. Mohinder knew, though he would deny it, that Sylar had caught him in those longing stares when he thought the other was oblivious.
All that had changed when Mohinder had learned just who his traveling companion really was. His path became single-minded. He couldn’t think about ‘Zane’, this was Sylar. He needed to stop this killer now and avenge his father’s murder. He’d been consumed by guilt for having led Sylar right to Dale Smithers. He should have seen Zane’s headache for what it really was, Sylar’s inability to properly control his newly stolen power.
There had been no room in his mind for thoughts of the man he had been getting to know. It was clearly all an act, a way for Sylar to get his hands on the list. Sylar might even have been getting a sick enjoyment out of messing with the son of one of his victims.
Mohinder had pulled that trigger knowing that Zane was a persona and nothing more. He’d known that he was saving countless innocent lives. He was fulfilling his duty as a son.
It was only afterwards, after Sylar had called looking for help and then slipped away as Mohinder dialed 911, that Mohinder wondered how much of Zane was real. It started then, the doubt. It was small because Sylar’s crimes were so large and they possessed so much strength, but the doubt was always there, if not consciously thought about. Then Sylar died at Kirby Plaza, or so he had thought, and there was no point in thinking about such things.
Then the second phone call came.
Sylar back, alive, and he was threatening Molly.
So much had happened after that there’d been no time to think. No, he’d been in various stages of shock and exhaustion ever since then.
It was only after this morning’s events that those thoughts had slowly surfaced back to his conscious mind. He remembered seeing ‘Zane’ sneaking his own sly glances. Realized that, impossible though it might seem, this ostensibly heartless serial killer had some sort of fixation on him. It couldn’t be anything near love, Mohinder knew the man couldn’t possibly be capable on it. The alternative, unfortunately, was much more terrifying: that his intentions were considerably crueler.
Now… now he didn’t know what to think. Sylar had been insistent, forceful, and yet surprisingly tender. It was a strange combination that didn’t fall securely into any category or definition that Mohinder knew of. Despite his deep-seated revulsion at being kissed by the man who had murdered his father, friends and so many others, he’d also immediately experienced a terrifyingly strong urge to return those kisses. Sylar knew this now; there was no doubt of that. Mohinder had barely spent a minute at the man’s mercy and he’d given in to the rush of endorphins, that surge of pleasure, the desire.
He would have given Sylar everything he wanted.
Afterwards, he would have hated himself.
Even contemplating it now he shuddered and felt himself losing control. How could he possibly live with this? Was he able to forget about those murders, to actually feel something for Sylar because his own hands were now covered in blood? How could he hate a man so much and still feel these things?
Why couldn’t he get Zane’s shy smile out of his mind?
How long before he had to face the man again? Not if, when. Where Sylar had gone, what had stopped him from killing Peter, no one could say. It was a mystery, not one the others had yet discussed. They were on their guard, but they were also going to give themselves time to get situated before indulging in speculation. Too much had happened, but Sylar’s return was inevitable.
Mohinder, however, had been able to think of almost nothing else. He’d insisted that his presence only put the others in danger. They wouldn’t hear of it though, Peter had even threatened to keep Mohinder there against his will. Mohinder’s knowledge had saved Nathan’s life, he couldn’t possibly have known Sylar would follow, couldn’t have known what would happen. Peter insisted that he would protect his friend. He would not take no for an answer.
Nathan was already making plans to organize their resistance, the ensuing secret war. The man had been dead just a few hours ago and yet he was already using his political mindset and skills to make plans. Mohinder couldn’t think much about that though. His thoughts were ravaged and consumed by Sylar.
He’d resigned himself to staying where he was. So now he was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was utterly exhausted and yet he was still unable to sleep.
It was going to be a very long night.
-------------
Sylar had only teleported twice in his life. Now twice in one day. At least, he thought it was one day. Running a hand through his bristly hair he sighed as he studied the night sky. Teleporting like the Asian kid and Petrelli did was disorienting but that was about it. What this woman had done to him though… It had been like being sucked into a black hole. He’d felt stretched and compressed all at once. Then suddenly a release, a snap back to reality.
He’d found himself returned to the motel in the middle of nowhere. There was a cop car parked out front with yellow police tape strung around the area. He didn’t need to eavesdrop to know that they must be extremely confused. The roof of the room he’d rented was quite thoroughly wrecked and they weren’t likely to figure out how it had been so thoroughly destroyed any time soon. The detective that had arrived at the scene, however, was focused on the spot where he’d had Petrelli pinned. Splinters of wood lay discarded in a pool of blood that they would have to suspect was the result of a murder, for no normal person could survive that much blood-loss.
All this assuming that there hadn’t been any witnesses. Either way it hardly mattered.
Sylar watched from a distance for several long minutes, thinking back on what he’d been told, trying to decide how much he was willing to believe. Certainly he needed to find out if Petrelli really had ‘destroyed’ strain 138 of the Shanti virus. That was the one bit he could confirm easily enough, he supposed. The rest, however, was far more nebulous.
The mere fact that the woman had been able to deflect his most refined ability and been able to teleport him in a manner Sylar had never seen before were two convincing points in her favour. Surely if there was another Empath out there who was not from the future, especially one that powerful, someone would have heard of her. That was, of course, assuming it actually was a woman. Her gender and appearance might have been a deception in and of itself. Still, she’d certainly seemed confident and he hadn’t detected those telltale patterns in her heartbeat that would have indicated that she was lying.
Sylar scowled as he thought about Petrelli and what he had interrupted. He didn’t even really care about the man’s powers anymore; he just wanted Peter to die in agony for interrupting when he had.
Sylar closed his eyes, remembering the sweet taste of Mohinder’s skin. His spicy scent, the glorious moans of pleasure slipping out to reveal how the man truly felt despite doing everything he could to deny it. Then Mohinder suddenly kissing him back, just as aggressive, passionate. Sylar felt his body responding at the mere memory of it, even though it had lasted only a handful of seconds.
He balled his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms. Once he’d started, Sylar had been so intoxicated that he’d been prepared to act on his desires whether Mohinder was willing or not. Sure, he’d hoped to convince his gorgeous doctor, but he was certainly not going to be denied. Now though, he remembered the flutter in his stomach when Mohinder had reciprocated, how his blood had burned with passion. Mohinder’s determined resistance was intoxicating. No one stood up to him like Mohinder; but god, knowing without a doubt in that moment that Mohinder wanted him just as much had been the closest to pure bliss that Sylar had ever felt.
His eyes snapped open in shock as this revelation hit his mind. It had even been stronger than the thrill he felt when he acquired a new power. Sylar’s head spun wildly at the thought. How could such a simple, un-evolved man have so much power over him? It was utterly unacceptable and his survival instinct screamed at him to purge the weakness, but in this he was disgustingly helpless.
How had this happened?
He had to have Mohinder, his body ached with desire to see the other man pinned beneath him. Yet the idea of merely taking what he wanted suddenly left a bitter taste in his mouth. He told himself it really wasn’t an issue, Mohinder had already shown that he’d be easy to convince. Still, if it came down to it, could he still just take what he wanted like he would with everything else?
He was suddenly terrified that the answer to that question was ‘no’.
Sylar rubbed his eyes before shaking his head as if he could fling off those feelings with the gesture. This had to be the result of whatever that woman had done to him. There was no way one man could make him think such utterly weak and pathetic thoughts. He was off balance, not thinking clearly. Of course he wouldn’t let some feeble protesting stop him. The very idea was ridiculous!
He needed to clear his head, plan his next move. Petrelli would have taken them back to his brother, but after that… well Peter was a laughably predictable creature. They would retreat to what they considered safety: home, back to New York.
It would be a long flight but that was fine. He needed the time to cool off, decide what to do next. By the time he arrived he would have his head back on straight and a plan in mind. This moment of weakness would be long behind him.
Right?
Of course it would.
-------------
Despite fighting through a stream of nebulous nightmares, Mohinder slept well into the next day. It was almost noon when he reluctantly dragged himself back to consciousness. Normally sleeping that long would have left him feeling mildly disgusted with himself but of all the reasons for self-loathing he had right now, sleeping in was right at the bottom of the list. Regardless, it had been an exhausting three days and his body had needed the rest.
After a long shower Mohinder emerged to find his clothes had been washed and pressed, probably by the Petrelli’s maid. The idea was utterly foreign to him but he was grateful to have at least the familiarity of his own clothing, without the filth and blood from the previous day.
After he finished dressing he made the bed out of habit before sitting down on the edge, letting his head fall into his hands. Clearly the others had decided to leave him alone for now and he wasn’t sure he wanted the presence of others at the moment. Now that he’d shaken off the lethargy of sleep his mind was spinning. Peter would only have to sneak a peak into his mind for a few seconds to get hit with a barrage of thoughts, mostly centering on Sylar and all of them highly embarrassing. If he was exceedingly lucky Peter would respect his mental privacy, but Mohinder expected that the other man wouldn’t be able to contain his concern or curiosity. He knew too well from living with Matt that telepathy was all too easy to use even accidentally.
He wouldn’t be able to hide upstairs forever, but he also couldn’t bear to have Peter pick up on what had happened. He couldn’t deal with the look of shock, confusion, revulsion or all three on the man’s face. Mohinder could hardly face himself! What would Peter think of him if he knew that Mohinder had been fervently kissing the man who had just nearly killed Peter for a third time? Not to mention that this time would have been far more permanent. There was no way Sylar would have taken pity on the younger Petrelli, especially not right then.
Easy as that, Mohinder’s thoughts were filled once again with nothing but Sylar. The terrifying fury that had filled the man’s eyes, Mohinder had seen him nearly trembling with rage as he shattered that chair. It was nothing short of a miracle that the other man had survived.
Right, and how had he? What happened to Sylar?
His gut twinged in worry.
Worry? Oh god-
As he placed the emotion he desperately tried to deny it. Surely it was worry over whomever could have been powerful enough to stop Sylar at that moment.
Anyone that saved Peter would be an ally though…
His thoughts betrayed him, his damned logic shattering that feeble argument into a million pieces tiny pieces. Hugging himself desperately, he let himself fall back onto the bed, burying his face into the feather-soft pillow. Tears leaked from his eyes as the crushing reality started to hit him.
He wanted to know what happened to Sylar. He didn’t want Sylar to show up again, didn’t want to face him, see him. Yet he also wanted to know that Sylar was still alive. Something inside of him wanted reassurance.
Maybe he was right, maybe I am broken.
The conversation played over and over in his head, words and actions, thoughts and emotions. Like a broken record he couldn’t stop, stuck on automatic repeat. It was almost like torture, and in a way that almost made him feel better. His masochistic urge to punish himself for what he’d thought, what he’d done, was being sated merely by reliving the events themselves.
How long he lay there replaying events, trying to make sense of the ocean he was drowning in, he wasn’t sure. Only that the knock on the bedroom door jarred him out of his reverie quite some time later. He closed his eyes, trying to will the visitor away, but the second pair of knocks was harder, more insistent than the last.
“Dr. Suresh?” The voice that filtered through the door was so clearly filled with concern that it made Mohinder’s stomach clench. He couldn’t hide any longer, he supposed. At least the interruption had briefly freed his thoughts from Sylar’s greedy grasp.
“Come in.” He called back softly, pushing himself into a slightly more dignified sitting position. He couldn’t wipe the tortured expression from his face but at least he could seem a little less pathetic.
To his surprise it wasn’t Peter outside his door. Instead it was the older Petrelli brother. Mohinder’s shock must have been written plainly on his face because as Nathan entered, shutting the door behind him, the man ran a hand through his hair and shrugged a little.
“Peter asked me to check on you.” He explained, “He didn’t come out and say it, but he thinks you’re specifically avoiding him. So here I am.”
Mohinder couldn’t find the words to answer, especially as he had been avoiding Peter. So he merely shrugged in response, not meeting the other man’s eyes.
“I never got a chance to thank you properly yesterday.” Nathan continued, leaning up against the chest of drawers. “You saved my life. Or brought me back from the dead. I really don’t understand it but if you hadn’t known it was possible I’d be dead right now so… a simple thank you seems horribly inappropriate. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, please, just ask.”
Mohinder let out a long breath; at least this topic was easier to deal with. Surreal as that thought might be.
“That’s very kind but I was just doing what I thought was right.” He explained, finally meeting Nathan’s eyes for a moment before settling his gaze back on the carpet again. “Besides, I nearly got Peter killed again. I can’t possibly-“
“You can’t blame yourself for that Doctor Suresh.” Nathan cut him off, folding his arms over his chest. “Sylar’s a madman and my brother wouldn’t leave anyone at his mercy.”
Mohinder just nodded, not really agreeing but not wanting to talk about Sylar.
“Right. Well there’s food ready in the kitchen whenever you’re feeling up to it.” Nathan offered, straightening up once again. “Peter will take you back home whenever you want. Though if you’re planning on going back to work...”
Mohinder let out a breath of air that almost sounded like a laugh.
“Don’t worry Mr. Petrelli, I’m on your side in this. I don’t know what Claire’s told you, but I have no love for the Company. Its… complicated. Aside from trying to find a cure for the virus, well I only joined up in the first place to help Noah bring the Company down.” The words were bitter. He’d been a fool to trust them, really. Now where was he? They’d turned him into a murderer! He couldn’t honestly put all the blame on them, but since the incident in California Mohinder had been realizing more and more how Bob and the others had been manipulating him from the start. Finding a cure was important, but not at this cost.
“Well we don’t have proof yet, but there really isn’t anyone else who could have known what I was planning to do and would be willing to kill me for it.” Nathan replied carefully, running a hand along his jaw. “Listen, while you’re here, be careful what you say around my mother.”
Mohinder quirked an eyebrow at this, straightening a little. He certainly hadn’t expected that, especially given where they were at the moment.
“You don’t think that she-“
Nathan shook his head and sighed, his gazing fixing on some spot out the window.
“I’m not really sure what my mother is capable of any more.” He explained, lines of pain carving themselves onto his face. “I recently learned that she was one of the founding members of the Company. She’s been willing to let a lot of horrible things happen, including letting Peter explode in the middle of New York. Maybe she didn’t have anything to do with, well with what happened in Texas, but we can’t risk it. I can’t trust that she won’t choose their side.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was the only thing Mohinder could think of to say. How do you respond to something like that? Nathan just shrugged a little. It was clear that he wasn’t comfortable talking about it, they all had things they didn’t want to discuss.
“Well I’ll leave you alone then, Doctor.” Nathan strode towards the door, but paused as his fingers brushed the handle. “We would enjoy your company and like to hear your thoughts though, if you’re feeling up to it. I don’t want to pry, but we’ve all been through hell lately. Dwelling on the past, well you only lose yourself in it. Trust me on that. I’ve been there.”
The sadness in Nathan’s eyes touched something inside of Mohinder. He didn’t know the elder Petrelli all that well, but the ghost of a tortured soul was suddenly glaringly apparent. They did say that misery shared was misery halved. Now Mohinder realized that he’d been selfishly hiding away while a man he considered his friend, and his family, were all suffering as well. Maybe he didn’t want to discuss what had happened but there was good he could do here.
Mohinder got to his feet, forcing himself to straighten his posture.
“Just Mohinder, please.” He told the other man, forcing his lips to twitch upwards a touch in some semblance of a smile as he held out a hand. Nathan gave him a searching look for a moment before reaching out and taking Mohinder’s hand in his own, his grip firm.
“Only if you call me Nathan.” He chuckled, just a little, and Mohinder felt his smile becoming somewhat more genuine.
“Well, Nathan, I think I’ll take you up on that offer of food.” He replied as they broke the handshake, “and then we can discuss our next move.”
Part 6