Heroes fic: Exeunt
Title: Exeunt
Series: Heroes
Pairings: Mylar
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: death
Summary: Mohinder's presence in Sylar's life is one of few certainties he's been privileged to have.
A/N: Written for the mylar_fic biweekly contest. Prompt: If it don't end in bloodshed, dear, it's probably not love. - "Vampire Heart" by Tom McRae.
"I knew it would be you," Sylar choked. He spat on the floor. All blood. "Not always, but eventually I knew."
Mohinder says nothing. He steps forward and his fist collides with Sylar's jaw again. Sylar's head smashes into the ground when he falls. His mouth fills with more blood and he swears he can see the red spread into the white light before his eyes. Then it all fades and there is only the dirty concrete floor stretching out around him. He thought he could take refuge in here, take stock, calculate his options, but the warehouse is abandoned, empty, and there is nowhere to hide. He feels Mohinder stand over him as he pushes himself to his hands and knees. His vision spins, but when he turns his head he can see the gun Mohinder threw to the floor. He doesn't try to grab it. It's a dart gun, and it's empty, its only vial shot into Sylar's back.
Sylar wonders if the others know that Mohinder developed a power dampener. Claire must know, because if Mohinder got it to work counter to the benefits of cellular regeneration, he must have tested it on her-- but only after testing a base version on himself, of course. Mohinder would not want to repeat the mistakes that led to his enhanced strength and agility. He probably still agonized over asking Claire to help, knowing that her judgment would also be compromised by what Sylar had done to her.
Sylar's transgressions against Claire and Mohinder's other acquaintances are why he's sure they don't know that Mohinder is here at this moment. They'd be happy to be here, to see Sylar punished, and they're all too noble to let Mohinder do this by himself when so much could have gone wrong.
But everything appears to be going right for Mohinder, although Sylar wouldn't have expected him to be quite this underhanded after his enduring guilt trip of the past few years. Surely Mohinder would cling to the white hat, lay out a challenge, show some respect for what lies between the two of them. Then again, any person can only be pushed so far. As much as their lives have grown to resemble a comic book, in real life there isn't very long before the lives of others outweigh those of the villainous. The so-called good cannot justify letting evil live on for long, whether it be because of their desire not to take lives themselves, or to maintain a sense of fair play, or to assure I am not like him.
But when it comes to Sylar and Mohinder, they both know that last quivering statement is not true, and Mohinder must have finally resigned himself to it. Even after his efforts to make up for his past sins, Mohinder cannot win-- defeat Sylar, avenge his father, make the world a safer place-- without Sylar winning-- knowing that Mohinder compromised himself for this, that he is not only willing to kill but created a serum he cannot guarantee will always be used to protect.
Sylar pushes himself over onto his back. He looks up at Mohinder, whose face is like stone, giving away nothing, yet revealing that there is something to hide. There is little effort in beating Sylar to a pulp, but it is not easy.
For Sylar to receive the pain, however, that is simpler. Each blow holds the force of love for Chandra, the ever-present remorse stemming from three days of intense camaraderie made possible by a bold, manipulative lie. This is the culmination of their story, the final divergence of two ever-crossing lines, simply inevitable.
It is more of a certainty than Sylar has ever gotten from anyone else, from his father who abandoned him, his mother who rejected him, from Angela and Arthur Petrelli who fed him truth and lies about his actual parentage, from Elle whose affection was a product of fickle dependence, from his real father who at best was emotionally indifferent to him. Mohinder's presence in Sylar's life is different, a continuation of the shift that began with Chandra's awakening of his ability. Chandra's betrayal (another assurance of uncertainty) led to Chandra's death at Sylar's hands and guaranteed retribution from his son before Mohinder and Sylar even met, still on opposite sides of the globe.
But when they did meet-- through amazing coincidence, Zane Taylor having called the young doctor to his home just hours before Sylar arrived to take what was rightfully his-- it was clear that there was meant to be something more than antagonism between them. On the road, even in the guise of a dead musician, Sylar found it was as easy as making small talk to voice his innermost thoughts and even some secrets as Mohinder initiated conversations Sylar had never been able to have with anyone else, on philosophy, life, the future. And although Sylar had abruptly noticed Mohinder's smooth chocolate skin and pretty black curls, and marked them as just striking characteristics, as the trip wore on they became subjects of fascination along with Mohinder's infectious smile, his lean frame, his cultured voice. Sylar laid alone in motel beds and could not help but succumb to lurid fantasies.
But despite Sylar's growing awareness of the depth of the connection between them, those fantasies remained in his imagination. Mohinder could not be fooled forever, and all the good will built up toward "Zane" was broken by the truth, pushed aside in favor of his need for revenge, in favor of a system of morality that shouldn't have applied when faced with what they could have together.
Still, it was too late for Mohinder-- he already felt that connection between them, even if he doesn't understand it as clearly as Sylar does, and so things have never been simple between them, including now. Mohinder reaches down and yanks Sylar up by his shirt, and he hits him again and again, acknowledging their bond the only way he knows how, acknowledging that lingering betrayal in how he puts all his emotions into his fists instead of risking what might show on his face.
There were times when Sylar fantasized that if he was somehow defeated, it would be in a grand spectacle after an era of absolute power, after a long-waged bloody battle, something befitting the best of the next phase of the human race. He would be brought down by someone better, a marker for yet another phase, this one for humans with capabilities no one today could even dream of. Sylar would complete his leading part in this act of evolution's grand play.
But here, hidden away with Mohinder, pain lighting his body afire, Sylar feels a remarkable lack of regret, because this end is somehow more meaningful, important, personal. It is the consummation of something binding, everlasting, certainly destined, and that must be love.
Sylar drops to his knees as Mohinder releases his shirt. Mohinder's bloody hands press against either side of Sylar's head, and Sylar knows his neck is about to be snapped, just like he'd done to Chandra. And after that, Mohinder is more than strong enough to rip his head from his body, and smart enough to burn his remains, scatter the ashes over a matter of miles.
Mohinder holds him tightly, and Sylar grasps his legs, relishing the touch, taking it with him into oblivion.
Series: Heroes
Pairings: Mylar
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: death
Summary: Mohinder's presence in Sylar's life is one of few certainties he's been privileged to have.
A/N: Written for the mylar_fic biweekly contest. Prompt: If it don't end in bloodshed, dear, it's probably not love. - "Vampire Heart" by Tom McRae.
"I knew it would be you," Sylar choked. He spat on the floor. All blood. "Not always, but eventually I knew."
Mohinder says nothing. He steps forward and his fist collides with Sylar's jaw again. Sylar's head smashes into the ground when he falls. His mouth fills with more blood and he swears he can see the red spread into the white light before his eyes. Then it all fades and there is only the dirty concrete floor stretching out around him. He thought he could take refuge in here, take stock, calculate his options, but the warehouse is abandoned, empty, and there is nowhere to hide. He feels Mohinder stand over him as he pushes himself to his hands and knees. His vision spins, but when he turns his head he can see the gun Mohinder threw to the floor. He doesn't try to grab it. It's a dart gun, and it's empty, its only vial shot into Sylar's back.
Sylar wonders if the others know that Mohinder developed a power dampener. Claire must know, because if Mohinder got it to work counter to the benefits of cellular regeneration, he must have tested it on her-- but only after testing a base version on himself, of course. Mohinder would not want to repeat the mistakes that led to his enhanced strength and agility. He probably still agonized over asking Claire to help, knowing that her judgment would also be compromised by what Sylar had done to her.
Sylar's transgressions against Claire and Mohinder's other acquaintances are why he's sure they don't know that Mohinder is here at this moment. They'd be happy to be here, to see Sylar punished, and they're all too noble to let Mohinder do this by himself when so much could have gone wrong.
But everything appears to be going right for Mohinder, although Sylar wouldn't have expected him to be quite this underhanded after his enduring guilt trip of the past few years. Surely Mohinder would cling to the white hat, lay out a challenge, show some respect for what lies between the two of them. Then again, any person can only be pushed so far. As much as their lives have grown to resemble a comic book, in real life there isn't very long before the lives of others outweigh those of the villainous. The so-called good cannot justify letting evil live on for long, whether it be because of their desire not to take lives themselves, or to maintain a sense of fair play, or to assure I am not like him.
But when it comes to Sylar and Mohinder, they both know that last quivering statement is not true, and Mohinder must have finally resigned himself to it. Even after his efforts to make up for his past sins, Mohinder cannot win-- defeat Sylar, avenge his father, make the world a safer place-- without Sylar winning-- knowing that Mohinder compromised himself for this, that he is not only willing to kill but created a serum he cannot guarantee will always be used to protect.
Sylar pushes himself over onto his back. He looks up at Mohinder, whose face is like stone, giving away nothing, yet revealing that there is something to hide. There is little effort in beating Sylar to a pulp, but it is not easy.
For Sylar to receive the pain, however, that is simpler. Each blow holds the force of love for Chandra, the ever-present remorse stemming from three days of intense camaraderie made possible by a bold, manipulative lie. This is the culmination of their story, the final divergence of two ever-crossing lines, simply inevitable.
It is more of a certainty than Sylar has ever gotten from anyone else, from his father who abandoned him, his mother who rejected him, from Angela and Arthur Petrelli who fed him truth and lies about his actual parentage, from Elle whose affection was a product of fickle dependence, from his real father who at best was emotionally indifferent to him. Mohinder's presence in Sylar's life is different, a continuation of the shift that began with Chandra's awakening of his ability. Chandra's betrayal (another assurance of uncertainty) led to Chandra's death at Sylar's hands and guaranteed retribution from his son before Mohinder and Sylar even met, still on opposite sides of the globe.
But when they did meet-- through amazing coincidence, Zane Taylor having called the young doctor to his home just hours before Sylar arrived to take what was rightfully his-- it was clear that there was meant to be something more than antagonism between them. On the road, even in the guise of a dead musician, Sylar found it was as easy as making small talk to voice his innermost thoughts and even some secrets as Mohinder initiated conversations Sylar had never been able to have with anyone else, on philosophy, life, the future. And although Sylar had abruptly noticed Mohinder's smooth chocolate skin and pretty black curls, and marked them as just striking characteristics, as the trip wore on they became subjects of fascination along with Mohinder's infectious smile, his lean frame, his cultured voice. Sylar laid alone in motel beds and could not help but succumb to lurid fantasies.
But despite Sylar's growing awareness of the depth of the connection between them, those fantasies remained in his imagination. Mohinder could not be fooled forever, and all the good will built up toward "Zane" was broken by the truth, pushed aside in favor of his need for revenge, in favor of a system of morality that shouldn't have applied when faced with what they could have together.
Still, it was too late for Mohinder-- he already felt that connection between them, even if he doesn't understand it as clearly as Sylar does, and so things have never been simple between them, including now. Mohinder reaches down and yanks Sylar up by his shirt, and he hits him again and again, acknowledging their bond the only way he knows how, acknowledging that lingering betrayal in how he puts all his emotions into his fists instead of risking what might show on his face.
There were times when Sylar fantasized that if he was somehow defeated, it would be in a grand spectacle after an era of absolute power, after a long-waged bloody battle, something befitting the best of the next phase of the human race. He would be brought down by someone better, a marker for yet another phase, this one for humans with capabilities no one today could even dream of. Sylar would complete his leading part in this act of evolution's grand play.
But here, hidden away with Mohinder, pain lighting his body afire, Sylar feels a remarkable lack of regret, because this end is somehow more meaningful, important, personal. It is the consummation of something binding, everlasting, certainly destined, and that must be love.
Sylar drops to his knees as Mohinder releases his shirt. Mohinder's bloody hands press against either side of Sylar's head, and Sylar knows his neck is about to be snapped, just like he'd done to Chandra. And after that, Mohinder is more than strong enough to rip his head from his body, and smart enough to burn his remains, scatter the ashes over a matter of miles.
Mohinder holds him tightly, and Sylar grasps his legs, relishing the touch, taking it with him into oblivion.