Surprise fiction attack!
First attempt at speculative Heroes fiction. It's slashy, or pre-slash, or somewhere in there. Here goes. It's Sylar and Mohinder, because they're pretty much thermonuclear together, in Mohinder's laboratory, in a missing scene from the second season finale, "Powerless."
Title: Ten Minutes
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder, Heroes
Rating: R for language and adult themes.
Warnings: Spoilers through season two, threatened noncon.
Word Count: 3250
Sylar stood too close. Mohinder could feel the heat of him against his back from where he hovered inches away, peering over Mohinder’s shoulder, casting a shadow across the worktable. It wasn’t easy to focus on the microscope with Sylar so near, but it was far, far better to have Sylar’s attention fixed on him than on Molly. Molly, sitting on the bed up the short flight of stairs with Maya, the strange, sad woman with the frightening power, was within Mohinder’s line of sight, but he didn’t look up. The less Sylar was aware of her, the better.
“What’s the diagnosis, doctor?” Maybe there was a trace of worry beneath Sylar’s outward nonchalance. Maybe Mohinder was imagining things. “Do I have the virus?”
Mohinder straightened up and looked at him. Sylar still had the gun out, held by his side, always ready. It would be madness to try to take it from him. And yet if it came to that, he’d have to try. Anything to prevent Sylar from getting his hands on the cure. Anything to keep him from hurting Molly. Anything. “I’m not quite certain. Something’s attacking your red blood cells.”
“That’s what took my powers away?”
“Possibly. The Shanti virus does present itself that way. I’ll have to isolate the dead cells and take a closer look at them to be sure.” That was disingenuous, and that was a dangerous game to play against Sylar. A quick glance at the cells confirmed Sylar’s diagnosis. A closer examination would determine which strain of the virus he had, but it hardly mattered. The serum would cure Sylar regardless. Not that Sylar needed to know that.
Mohinder started to turn back to his microscope. Sylar took hold of his upper arm. Not rough, but not gentle, either. “This isn’t the time to mess around with me, Mohinder.”
“I know.” Mohinder met his stare as evenly as he could. He was only inches away from Sylar, and Sylar was half a head taller, so he had to tilt his head back to look into his eyes. It made him feel submissive. It wasn’t a good feeling. “But look, Sylar, you could have lost your abilities in some way we know nothing about. The virus is a fair guess, but if we guess wrong, the serum could kill you.”
Sylar peered down at him. Impossible to tell what was going on behind those dark eyes. “You’ve always been a good liar,” he said at last.
“I’m not lying.” To his own ears, he sounded calm and reasonable. Good. “Believe me, I don’t want to spend any more time with you than absolutely necessary.”
Sylar almost smiled. “The last time I believed you, I ended up duct-taped to a chair while you jammed a needle in my spine. You’ll have to allow me a little skepticism.” He released Mohinder’s arm. “How long would it take to isolate the cells?”
“Once I prepare the samples, it won’t take long for the dead cells to separate out. Ten minutes should do it.” Damn it, he should have tried to stall for longer than that. He’d left a frantic message for Bob before confronting Sylar at his apartment. Bob might be monitoring them on the lab’s security cameras even now, waiting for the right moment to send in reinforcements. Or Bob might be on another of his fishing trips, and Mohinder’s message might still be unheard, and it might be solely up to Mohinder to find some way to stop Sylar. Either way, he needed to buy as much time as possible.
Sylar nodded. “Fine. Do it. But don’t play games, and don’t test my patience. It’s not only your life at risk here.”
Mohinder bowed his head. “I know.”
He prepared fresh slides from Sylar’s blood sample and arranged them on a sterile tray. He placed the tray of slides into the lab’s small refrigerator and set the timer, then turned back to Sylar.
“Ten minutes,” he said.
Sylar let out a curious noise, something between a huff and a grunt. “Fine,” he said.
He scrutinized Mohinder. His attention was focused on Mohinder’s face, his expression bemused. Before he spoke, Mohinder knew what he was about to say. “You never told me who broke your nose.”
Mohinder felt his face grow hot. He resisted the urge to touch the bandages. “It was an accident at work,” he said.
“Ah, yes. Your new position.” Sylar observed him. “Ever think you might be in over your pretty head?”
“Your concern is touching,” Mohinder said.
“I’m just looking out for your best interests,” Sylar said. “I can’t say much for your new employers. They grabbed me in Texas after I went after that cheerleader, did you know that? They drilled a hole in my skull and stuck a shunt in my brain.” Sylar rubbed the back of his head. “They ran tests on me until they thought I was dead.”
“It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.” Mohinder looked at him. “Are you expecting sympathy? Do you remember who you’re talking to? That’s what the Company does, Sylar. They prevent people like you from hurting anyone.”
Sylar snorted. “People like me,” he said. “Not so long ago, you wanted to help people like me.”
Mohinder held up a finger. “Not you, Sylar. Never you.”
There was a long, long moment while Sylar looked at him, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. “Ah,” he said. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what you’re playing. It’s the only way your involvement with them makes any sense.” He chuckled. “It won’t work. What do they think they’ll do to you when they figure it out?”
“Figure what out?” Mohinder asked.
Sylar took a step closer. Then another. He rested the hand still carrying the gun on Mohinder’s shoulder, the muzzle aimed loosely at his neck. Mohinder forced himself to stay still.
Sylar leaned in until his mouth was right next to Mohinder’s ear. “That you’re a treacherous, lying little bitch,” he said. He pulled back and looked at him, smiling. “You’re trying to bring them down, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sylar’s hand was still on his shoulder. Having Sylar this close to him, his attention this fixed upon him, was almost unbearable.
“If you’re not fooling me, you’re probably not fooling them,” Sylar said. “Once you stop being useful to them, or once you stop amusing them, they’ll take you apart at the seams. They’ll break you down into your component parts. And they’ll really enjoy doing it.”
Sylar thought for a moment. “Maybe I’ll help you.” Another smile. No teeth, just a pull of his lips. “Maybe that’s how I’ll repay you for helping me. Maybe I’ll destroy them all. Just for you.” Sylar used two fingers to lift Mohinder’s chin. “Would you like that, Mohinder?”
The tiger in the zoo outside Chennai had fascinated Mohinder, back when he was a small boy with messy hair and dusty sandals. He’d cling to the railing around the pit where the animal was kept and watch him for hours. The tiger was huge and sleek and strong, with a low-bodied growl powered by some primeval force deep inside him. With the guileless arrogance of childhood, Mohinder assumed he could befriend him, if the conditions were right. He’d never tame him, because how could something so glorious and frightening ever be controlled, but he felt sure the tiger would identify Mohinder as a kindred spirit. His father was quick to point out the idiocy in this. Mohinder was frail and foolish, and the tiger would have no use for him. “He’d devour you in two bites and never think of you again,” he’d said.
Funny how that sprang to mind right now.
A movement at the top of the stairs startled Mohinder out of his reverie. Sylar and Mohinder turned in unison.
Molly looked down at them. Small hands clutched the railing. Her eyes were wide. Mohinder’s heart twisted at the worry in her face.
“She doesn’t like you being this close to me,” he said quietly to Sylar. “I don’t like it either.”
“And here I thought we were friends.” Sylar stepped away from Mohinder and motioned for Molly to move back. Mohinder caught her eye and nodded. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it felt stiff and unconvincing on his face. Maya placed her arm around Molly’s shoulders. She murmured something Mohinder couldn’t hear and led her away from the railing.
Sylar watched them until they were both seated on the bed again. “Cute kid,” he said. Mohinder’s stomach tightened. “What’s her power?”
Mohinder froze. “She doesn’t have one.”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m an idiot.” Sylar frowned at him. “Molly Walker. A name on your father’s list. I tried to murder her in Los Angeles, you know.”
“That’s not something I’m likely to forget.” Mohinder faced him, hoping he radiated truthfulness and honesty. “She doesn’t have an ability. She has a set of genetic markers that indicates she has the potential to develop one in the future, possibly. That’s all.”
“I gave you too much credit earlier.” Sylar smiled. “You’re not as good a liar as I thought.”
Mohinder’s mouth went dry. Sylar shook his head and continued. “It doesn’t matter. Be a good boy, and I’ll leave her alone, ability or no ability.”
It was a remarkable promise, coming from Sylar, and one Mohinder didn’t believe for a moment. He moved the conversation away from Molly. “How are you still alive? The coroner hauled you off of Kirby Plaza in a rubber bag. I saw your corpse.”
This confused Sylar. Mohinder saw it in his face. Then his expression cleared. “You didn’t see what you thought you saw,” he said. “A nice young woman named Michelle got me out of there and nursed me to health.” He smiled. “Interesting girl, Michelle. She had a most amazing ability. Very handy. You would have been fascinated by her. She could make people see anything she wanted them to see.” He made a small flourish with his hands. “Coroner’s vans and body bags included, apparently.”
Michelle. Not someone on his father’s list. Interesting. “Who was she? Was she working with you? Why’d she save you?”
“You know, I’m not sure.” Sylar wrinkled his brow. “In retrospect, I probably should have asked her that before I killed her.” He smiled. “But I’m pretty sure her paychecks were signed by the same people who sign yours.”
Still thinking of the mysterious Michelle and her abilities, Mohinder didn’t follow Sylar at first. Then it sunk in, with a grim inevitability. “The Company knew you were alive.”
“More than that. The Company saved my life.”
“I don’t believe it,” Mohinder said. “Why would they do that?”
“You tell me. You work for them. I’m just their favorite lab rat. Odd that they didn’t tell you about me, isn’t it?” Sylar smiled. “I guess you’re not as valuable to them as you thought. They must have known I’d come after you.”
Mohinder frowned. “But why would they? You didn’t even know about the virus, much less about my blood being the cure. I don’t have any idea why you thought you needed to see me.”
For some reason, this caught Sylar by surprise. “Don’t you?” he asked. There was a vulnerability in his tone that Mohinder hadn’t heard from him since… well, since before Mohinder had figured out what he was up against, before things had gone all to hell all those months ago. Then Sylar’s face closed again.
“You want to know why I’m here? Answer another question, and maybe I’ll tell you.” Sylar’s eyes narrowed. “Where does the cop sleep?”
This was dangerous, and Mohinder wasn’t entirely sure why. The hairs on the back of his neck warned him of a shift in Sylar’s mood. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. Another name on your father’s list. Officer Matt Parkman of the LAPD. Where does he sleep?”
Somewhere in Mohinder’s brain, a warning siren went off. Sylar was angling to find something out, and Mohinder had a sneaky, sinking, sick feeling he might know what it was. “Actually, that’s Detective Matt Parkman of the NYPD,” he said.
“I stand corrected. Where does he sleep?” There was a strange light in Sylar’s eyes. “I looked around your apartment. Two beds, three people.”
“Why does it matter?” Mohinder asked. “How are my sleeping arrangements any of your concern?”
“I’m the one with the gun. Anything I want to know about you is my concern.” Sylar shrugged, deceptively casual. “I’m just curious about what you’ve been up to in my absence. His clothes were in your closet. Does he share your bed as well?” Sylar prowled toward him. “The truth, Mohinder. Do you roll over and spread your legs for him?”
Mohinder glanced up at the railing. Molly was still back on the bed with Maya, out of earshot. The temptation to tell Sylar to go to hell was strong, but with Molly at risk… He let out a deep breath, suddenly exhausted. “I travel frequently, and Matt works a lot of night shifts. The first one home gets the bedroom, the other one takes the couch. Not that it’s any of your business.”
A beat, then Sylar smiled, wide and bright. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” The immediate danger passed; the warning siren ceased. “He didn’t seem like your type. Too law-abiding. I always figured you more for the bad boys.”
“Sylar, I assure you, you know nothing about my type.” Mohinder glanced at the timer. Three minutes left. Close enough. Time to put an end to the conversation. He moved to the refrigerator.
“Don’t I?” Sylar grabbed his arm and yanked him around to face him. He pulled him close. Their lips were suddenly millimeters apart, and for a second, a heart-stopping second, Mohinder thought he might kiss him.
“Remember Bozeman? A starless night, a frozen parking lot, a crappy little motel in the middle of nowhere? You stood outside your door and looked at me like a lovesick puppy, remember?” Sylar’s eyes glittered. “You fell hard for me, Mohinder, didn’t you? What would you have done if I’d kissed you then? What if I’d invited you into my room? How far would you have let me go?” A laugh, low and cruel. “Would you have let your daddy’s killer fuck you?”
Mohinder was still for a minute, composing himself, overruling the urge to shove Sylar off of him and punch him in the face. Sylar was trying to provoke him, and there was nothing to be gained by playing his game. He tilted his head and leaned forward until he could speak directly in Sylar’s ear.
“But you didn’t kiss me, did you?” He allowed himself a cold smile. “Instead, you crept out and murdered Dale Smither and left her corpse for me to find.” He pulled back and met Sylar’s stare. “So I guess you missed your chance.”
He turned away. An arm snaked around his waist and yanked him back. “Not necessarily.” Sylar pressed the gun under his chin and held him close. “The bed’s right up there. What do you say we try to rekindle a little of that Montana magic?”
A small noise from above made Mohinder glance up. Molly stood at the railing again, Maya behind her, looking down at them with matching expressions of concern. Sylar followed his stare and chuckled. “Shame about the peanut gallery, but it can’t be helped. They’ll have to watch.” He bent his face to Mohinder’s neck. “Or maybe I should spread you out on the floor, right where I killed Mendez.”
Ever wary of the gun, Mohinder made no effort to pull out of Sylar’s grasp. He wriggled around to face him. Sylar pulled him close. Mohinder brought up his hands to Sylar’s chest, not shoving him off, but holding him at bay. “Sylar, let go of me.”
“Why should I? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Sylar backed him up. He grabbed on to Mohinder’s waist, the gun digging into his hip. “Hop up.”
Before Mohinder knew what he was doing, Sylar hoisted him up the short distance until he was seated on the edge of the worktable. He stood between Mohinder’s knees, hands still on his waist. “Don’t act surprised. This was set in motion when you first showed up on my doorstep in Virginia, and you know it.”
He raised a hand and placed it on the back of Mohinder’s neck. “You want to know why I came to find you? This is why. This, right here, is why.” Fingers twined in Mohinder’s hair, holding him in place. “This is why I traveled thousands of miles for you. This is why I will always come after you.”
“Don’t do this.” Sylar’s chest, beneath his hands, radiated heat. “Sylar, stop this.”
“Poor Mohinder. You’re beautiful when you’re terrified.” Sylar smiled. “Have you ever been with a man before?”
“No.” Mohinder lifted his chin. “Have you ever committed a rape before?”
Something flickered in Sylar’s eyes. A moment of uncertainty, fleeting but noticeable. Then he smiled again. “Not yet,” he said. “You’ll be my first. And I’ll be yours.”
He wasn’t just taunting him. He wasn’t just trying to get under his skin, to provoke a reaction. Sylar was actually going to go through with this. No. No, he couldn’t let this happen, especially not with Molly nearby. His hands clutched Sylar’s shirt. “Sylar, listen to me. If Molly thinks you’re hurting me, she’ll try to stop you.”
Sylar stared down at him, confused, like Mohinder was speaking in tongues. “Then I’ll kill her.”
“I know you will. That’s why you have to stop this.” Was it possible to reason with Sylar? “I’m the only one who can help you. If you hurt Molly, you lose any chance of ever getting your abilities back.”
Another flicker of uncertainty. Good. Mohinder lifted one hand from Sylar’s chest. He took a deep breath and laid it flat against the side of Sylar’s face.
Sylar’s cheek was hot and rough and dry under his hand. Sylar’s eyes widened at the contact. A muscle in his jaw moved beneath Mohinder’s palm. Mohinder met his stare. “I’m cooperating with you. I’m going to fix you. Don’t ruin this.”
For a moment, Sylar looked furious. The hand in his hair tightened. Mohinder tensed and waited.
Sylar exhaled. “All right.”
He released his grasp on Mohinder’s hair. He stood, frozen in place, as though he had no idea what to do next. Then he removed Mohinder’s hand from his cheek and pressed his lips lightly to the backs of Mohinder’s fingers. He stepped back. “You’re off the hook.”
Mohinder slid down off the table. His legs shook. Sylar touched his shoulder.
“Postponed, not cancelled, Mohinder. When I take you, I want you to want it.”
Mohinder looked at him. “See that happening any time soon, do you?”
“Maybe. Maybe you still want me every bit as much as I want you. Maybe you’re just not ready to admit it to yourself.” Sylar laughed. “And if not, maybe you’d better get used to the idea of getting raped.”
A soft electronic buzz caused them both to turn. The lab timer.
Sylar smiled. “Better check on your blood, doctor.”
Without another word, Mohinder walked over to the refrigerator. Even with his back turned, he was aware of Sylar watching his every move.