Fic : The Five Husbands of Gabriel Gray
Rating : NC17
Pairing : Sylar/Mohinder, Sylar/Luke, Sylar/Nathan, Sylar/Peter, Sylar/Matt
Word count : 10,323
Notes : For
heroes_bigboom Beta read by
sylargrrrl
Art by
iluvbsbkevin and denied
Summary : Kelly Noble has the power to create multiple universes, but when Sylar takes it it forces a catastrophic chain of events. His future self must now force him to choose one of the five universes he has unwittingly set into motion. Five worlds, five husbands, but which will he choose?
The Five Husbands of Gabriel Gray
Prologue
Sylar blinked into nothingness. All was white, all was quiet, like some lazy movie interpretation of heaven. All he needed now was either a black or female actor, or possibly both, as God to seal the cliche. Instead, he saw himself.
"I know what you're thinking. And no, Angela Basset isn't going to appear as the Almighty any time soon, so relax. I'm from the future."
Sylar rolled his eyes. "And let me guess, I need to change my ways? You should know me better than that." His instincts told him to use power, but which? What had happened?
"You change your ways as often as you change your underwear so this shouldn't be a shock to the system. Kelly Noble."
"She had to go I'm afraid. You know what she can do. What I can do."
"I know, because I took it too, and I messed everything up because I couldn't stop myself. You have to choose which reality you want, you can't have them all."
Sylar's eyebrow twitched. "So I can have them all, I just shouldn't?"
"If you try, you'll end the world. You'll warp reality so badly that your life, your lives, will all run together, banging and crashing. You'll go insane, everyone will. Nothing will mean anything, you have to choose, or you'll be the ruler of a broken kingdom."
"But I will rule it?" He smirked.
Anger building inside him, the future Sylar set his jaw. "I'm stronger than you, I'm going to force your path for a while. You'll find yourself in each reality by turn and when they're done, you have to choose. When you do you'll be returned to your present. You might want to practise your surprised face."
"How can I choose when they're five completely different lives, this is ridiculous."
"Simple, I'm going to put you with each of your husbands. Seems like we're old fashioned boys at heart. Just wanna settle down. You have to pick one."
"What if I refuse?"
Future Sylar grinned, and disappeared. The white light faded.
Husband #1- Mohinder Suresh
Rubbing at his eyes in frustration as the spots of light dispersed, Sylar focused on the door. The door to Mohinder's old apartment. His first thought was that Mohinder was so stuck in his ways that he hadn't moved on from the same place that so much of his life's heartbreak had occurred. He patted his pocket and pulled out a key on a keyring which said 'World's Best Husband'. "Oh Christ..." He sighed and turned the key in the door.
The smell of cooking hit him as the door opened and he stepped inside. "Mohinder?" He glanced around and saw no-one. Maybe someone else had moved into Mohinder's apartment. Maybe he had. God forbid he would make a shrine out of this place. "Hello?"
"Don't touch anything!"
Mohinder's voice drifted in from the bedroom as Sylar looked around for things he could touch to irritate him. There were steaming pans on the cooker and Sylar couldn't help but peep inside. Curry. Something sparked in his memory, a little synaptic pop which led nowhere.
"I should have said 'Please touch things Sylar, it's imperative.' You'd think I'd have learned by now." Mohinder took the pan lid from him and replaced it. "And before you say anything, I did this because I felt like it, not because you told me to."
Sylar watched him walk away. They couldn't be married. It wasn't in either of them. Something had to be wrong. "What, no kiss? I believe it's customary."
"Huh." Mohinder ignored him, going to sit on the couch.
Unpeturbed, Sylar followed. "So how was your day?" He settled down next to Mohinder and tried not to get angry when he immediately shuffled down and away from him.
"My day was strikingly similar to that of an Indian housewife from the 1940s thank you so much en nanga."
Sylar mused on how difficult it was to unravel an argument in any situation, let alone when you weren't there at the start. Only one option remained. He put an arm around Mohinder's shoulder and one firmly on his thigh. "I'm sorry."
Mohinder looked at him, steely eyed. "What are you sorry for?"
"For....making you feel that way. I didn't mean to and I apologise. What can I do to make it up to you?" This was like speaking a foreign language for Sylar but he persisted. His choice had to be based on a typical day in their 'marriage' and if that meant pressing the reset button on an argument in which he was clearly right, then so be it.
Mohinder seemed to soften, and then immediately hate himself for it. "You can eat everything I put in front of you and never complain about it again. If you wanted to marry a stereotype you should have warned me. What's next? Bollywood dancing after dinner?"
Ah, so that was it. Sylar did love curry, if he thought it was an option he would ask anyone he married to cook it for him. Trust Mohinder to take umbridge like the martyr he was. "I won't ever ask again, God forbid you would want to embrace your heritage and that I, as your husband, would encourage you."
"Embrace my..! How many times have I asked you, no begged you to visit Chennai with me and how many times have you rolled your eyes and said we were both too busy?" Mohinder huffed and folded his arms. "You are unbelievable sometimes."
"Let's go then, let's go as soon as possible." Sylar could make as many promises as he wanted, he realised. He wasn't going to be the one to see them through. Not yet anyway. "Just please let's not fight about it any more, I don't want to fight with you."
"Well that'll be a first." Mohinder muttered.
God, this man was impossible. Sylar tried to recall what it was that usually shut Mohinder up when he was running his sarcastic mouth. Pain and violence? Didn't seem like an option unfortunately. Yet. He settled his head on Mohinder's shoulder and the man's smell hit him, the shampoo he used, the natural scent of his skin. It triggered off a set of memories which were bittersweet, but at least comforting. Losing himself in the moment he nuzzled at Mohinder's neck, letting the man's curls brush his forehead. God, he loved those curls. They were soft and begged to be pulled. "I love you Mohinder," he whispered, and it felt true. "Do you love me?"
Mohinder made the sigh which is familiar to anyone in a relationship as the herald of compromise. "Of course I love you."
Sylar hooked his leg between Mohinder's and half-straddled him, kissing at his neck. "So let's fuck and say no more about it?"
Pushing at him but getting nowhere Mohinder started to struggle. "I knew it! You only ever apologise when you want sex!" Despite his anger he kissed back hungrily, grabbing at Sylar's arms. Sylar ground into him pulling at Mohinder's shirt until it started to come loose, buttons popping. He nipped at Mohinder's throat and wrestled with his fly.
"That's not true, it's just that I always want sex. And sometimes I have recently apologised." Sylar managed to free Mohinder's cock and started jerking it roughly, grinning at the ecstatic moans which he knew were involuntary and unwanted. He watched as Mohinder screwed his eyes shut and wondered whether he was thinking about someone else. "Stay with me Mohinder. I'm going to - "
"Please don't talk, you know I hate your narration, it's so pointless."
Sylar jerked harder, sighing. "Fine." When Mohinder started to whimper a little he removed his hand and started to rid himself of his pants. He got them halfway down his thighs before he heard Mohinder tut. "What?"
"Just stand up and do it, you'll be here all night. We have about four minutes until dinner is ready, though that should be more than enough."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sylar stopped and put his hands on his hips.
"Nothing, just hurry up."
Hurt, Sylar tried to continue but found he couldn't. Something bit hard at him, something which seemed more from this reality than his own, something he couldn't quite place. It was compounded by Mohinder's hurried reaction to his current expression.
"I'm sorry darling, I didn't mean it, come on..." Mohinder ran his hands over Sylar's chest and tugged him towards him by the collar.
"I'm trying." Sylar said through gritted teeth. He needed re-assurance. Was he not good in bed? Did he have 'issues'? Was he impotent? Through glassy eyes he looked at Mohinder. "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing, you're fine. Look, I have to serve dinner, let's try again afterwards." Mohinder turned his face away as Sylar reluctantly rolled off him.
Sylar felt numb. Is this what marriage would be like? Fights and make-up sex which couldn't get going because secretly they hated each other? He dressed himself and stood, wandering to the small table where Mohinder was busy slamming down plates and avoiding his gaze. "You know you could be a little more supportive Mohinder, it's not my fault." He mumbled.
"No, I know it isn't." Mohinder turned back to the hob and muttered something under his breath.
"What?" Sylar demanded.
"I said it never is your fault is it? Nothing is ever your fault. I suppose it's mine for not turning you on enough, mine for not acquiescing to every perverted fantasy."
"Maybe if you loosened up and smiled once in a while, maybe if you knew how to have fun..." Sylar stopped in his tracks as he saw Mohinder's shoulders start to shake. He jumped up, powered by something inside of him which he didn't understand as yet. He gripped Mohinder's shoulders and was surprised when his husband spun around and buried himself tearfully in Sylar's embrace.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry my darling. I'm sorry you don't love me."
As Sylar's eyes snapped open he saw a white light and felt Mohinder slip from his grasp.
Husband #2 Luke Campbell
Sylar stared at the door, still shaking after the last encounter. His muscles ached and pulled as he tensed them, still thinking about how wrong Mohinder was, how arrogant he had been and how much he wanted him. He should go back. He wanted to go back to Mohinder, to fight and bite and scratch until there was nothing left of either of them. Surely that was how it was supposed to be, firey passion boiling them both from the inside out and periodically exploding in a mushroom cloud of hormones. He stared at the door again. It was purple for God's sake, what was he going to find behind this one? He fingered the key in his pocket, wondering what would happen if he just turned and went. Why should he choose? If he could float around the different realities he wouldn't just have power, he would have five chances to get each ability, five ways to rule the world.
"Five ways to be a God." he muttered to himself. But first it made sense to see them all, see what he was getting into. Sighing he tried the key in the door and pushed it. He was immediately hit with the smell of donuts and his mouth began to water involuntarily. The apartment was open plan; the kitchen on the left was a mess, a plastic donut maker abandoned with sticky tendrils of batter still clinging to it. To his right was an L-shaped couch which looked like it might swallow anything that dared touch it and a blaring TV with piles of DVD cases stacked precariously all around it. God, this place looked like a teenager lived he-
"Oh no." Sylar pushed the door closed behind him and saw that on the back of it was a picture of him and Luke at some amusement park or other, either side of a clown whose head had been cut out to allow for the door's spyhole. Cute.
"Hey, you're back!"
A shiver ran down Sylar's spine at the sound of Luke's voice and try as he might, he couldn't help but smile to see the kid alive. As Luke bounded toward him in a baggy pale blue hoody Sylar found himself accepting a crushing hug and squeezing back as the scent of donuts and drug store body spray invaded his nostrils. When Luke finally let go he saw that he was older, maybe twenty. His hair was a little longer and he had lost a little of the puppy fat he'd had the last time Sylar had seen him. "I'm back." he agreed, studying Luke's face for signs of the wariness and self-doubt he had had before, and which Sylar was sure his continuing influence on the boy would only have exacerbated.
"Want some donuts? I finally broke out that donut maker my cousin Natalie bought us for the wedding. It's not actually a piece of crap." Luke wandered into the kitchen and loaded two sickly looking pastries onto a side plate. "It's been in the box since then but it works."
Sylar regarded Luke with interest. He looked happy. Had he made him like this? Or was he happy despite his husband? Was he in denial over his misery like one of those 1950s housewives from the movies who cried themselves to sleep every night after their perfect dinner parties. "Wow, since the wedding? How long is that now?"
Luke looked up, trying to work it out. "Three years I guess...Yeah, three years in January right?" He handed Sylar the plate, sucking grease and sugar from the fingers of his other hand. "Try them, they're awesome."
He picked up a donut gingerly, taking a bite when he was sure that Luke wouldn't rest until he had. "Mmm." he moaned. "MMMM!"
"Right?" Luke beamed. "Course it's gonna be a bitch to clean but hey, worth it." He reached up to put his arms around Sylar, kissing him with shining lips. "What time do you want dinner?"
Sylar put down the plate on the kitchen counter pointedly and spun Luke round to press him against the door. "How about afterwards?" He kissed him hungrily, nipping at his lips and grinding against him until Luke started to fidget and try to move away. "What? What's the matter?"
Luke giggled, eyebrows raised. "What's gotten into you? You haven't kissed me like that since...like, ever."
"I haven't?" Sylar cocked his head, wondering what the hell kind of relationship this was.
"You know you haven't," Luke said softly. "Not....you know when we haven't been playing..." Luke whispered the last part even though there was no-one there to hear.
Sylar smirked. Playing? Nice. He nibbled at Luke's ear. "How do you know I'm not playing right now..?"
"Oh...OH! Oh okay...ahem. " Luke cleared his throat and widened his eyes in a performance that wasn't going to get him the Oscar but did make Sylar's cock sit up and take notice. "So Sylar, what are you doing here?"
Holding Luke flush against him, Sylar growled into his ear. "I came here from another reality and the last time I saw you you were only 17." He checked for the look on Luke's face and he wasn't horrified or crying, so he continued. "I don't know this reality, so why don't you give me the guided tour?" He dropped a few insistent kisses onto Luke's neck and squeezed his ass playfully.
Luke grinned, taking Sylar by the hand and leading him through the living room. "Well, Sylar, I'm 23 now and we've been married three years. But let me tell you, the sex hasn't dried up." He turned back and winked at Sylar, pulling him backwards through the doorway to their bedroom.
Sylar looked around. The room was dominated by the bed, big and squashy-looking like the couch. The walls were a mushroomy colour and the thick wooden bookshelves were covered in trinkets, photos and momentos. There were sea shells, pebbles, box frames full of diner logos on coasters and those little flags which held burgers together. There were framed pictures of what Sylar assumed to be family members. He recognised none of them except one baby which he couldn't place.
"So, Sylar, what are you going to do with me? The you from this reality might be home soon." Luke bounced his eyebrows, waiting for the next move.
Sylar smirked, pulling him down roughly onto the bed and smiling genuinely at the surprise in Luke's laugh. "Oh, the things I'm going to do to you, Luke Campbell." He growled.
"Mmm.." Luke pulled off his own hoody and quickly helped down his jeans. "My name's Luke Gray now, actually..."
***
So soft, sweet and pliable. Sylar couldn't believe how much he was enjoying this. He worked in Luke over and over, his moans like a soundtrack to his own comfort and need. Luke was satisfied, he knew, and would continue to be so. They were a couple - attuned to each others needs and more than willing to fulfill them. He found that he instinctively knew the answers to every question that Luke's body asked. Luke writhed beneath him, gripping and kissing Sylar where he liked to be touched - even that place below his hip which he thought nobody knew about. For the first time in his life he was making love how he had always been taught was right. He felt the love and affection, and the trust which allowed him to throw curve balls. They had played this game before - Sylar and Luke. He wondered what Luke would call him when the game ended.
"Mmmm, MMM, OH!" Luke bucked against him but didn't come. Sylar somehow knew it wasn't time. He bit down on Luke's neck and thrusted a few more times until sweat was running down his spine and Luke was becoming incoherent. "Come on...Come on..." he whispered, trembling. When they came in practised unison, they both laughed and cried at the same time.
***
Sylar let his head rest on Luke's, waiting for a sign he was awake. After a few minutes he heard him clear his throat and took the opportunity to squeeze him until he woke up, fidgeting and stroking at his chest hair.
"Hey, you awake, mystery boy?"
"Hmm, yeah I am. I guess my husband isn't back then?"
"No. And the stranger has some questions."
Luke rolled onto his back and stretched, smiling. "Okay, sure. Shoot."
Sylar leaned onto his side, looking over Luke with trepidation. "The last time I saw you, you were a runaway and I was a serial killer. How do you two live here like a sitcom when that's the truth of the past?"
Luke's eyes were two blue marbles, no suspicion, no questions. It seemed to Sylar that these questions had been asked before - every time that the twin weapons of self-doubt and self-loathing were loaded in the face of one who loved unconditionally. "Well," he cuddled Sylar close, kissing whatever area of skin was available. "We've both changed a hell of a lot since then."
The door bell rang insistently. Luke moaned and stretched, his bones cracking as he did so.
"Man...FUCK! What time is it?!"
Sylar let his eyes eek open and saw Luke reach for the alarm clock.
"God damn, didn't realise it was that time..." He launched himself off the bed and Sylar watched him pull on his jeans and hoody without underwear. "Why does she always see me obviously well fucked?" He dashed out of the room and Sylar sat on alert. He shuffled back, trying to listen to the muffled discussion at the door. Suddenly it closed firmly and he started to pant with anticipation, wondering who the 'she' was and whether she had any more surprises for him.
The door swept back and Luke entered. Sylar's breath stopped in his lungs and his eyes started to wet inexplicably.
"Look who it is!" Luke had in his arms a baby in a powder blue onesie, tiny plump fingers grasping at the air as the child gaped and stared. Luke sat in the middle of the bed, and Sylar saw something in his eyes - a look of warning and apology. "He's fine, look. He's happy."
Sylar watched as Luke held the baby up and lowered him to his lips, over and over. "Ba ba ba. Oh, you're so cute."
The baby laughed and Sylar felt himself put an arm round Luke's shoulder, pulling him closer. The incredulous look on Luke's face quickly flipped to a weak smile and Sylar's other arm circled the baby, brushing the fine hair on the back of his head with his fingers.
"Who's this?" he whispered, hoping that Luke would play along.
Luke laughed. "Well, Sylar, this is my son. Me and my husband's."
"Not biological."
"No, but our son all the same. Aren't you Jamie?"
The baby seemed pre-occupied with Sylar. Not reaching for him, but watching.
"My husband's always tense on Thursdays, cause it's the day the Company monitor Jamie. But he's fine, aren't you honey? And tomorrow we'll find out whether there are any manifestations. But there won't be. There never are."
The baby gurgled and Sylar stroked his head again, not really knowing why. Luke hugged the baby to him and Sylar gathered them both in his arms. When his forehead met the baby's, and the baby's met Luke's, the white light came.
Husband #3 Nathan Petrelli
Sylar had so many questions. He could still feel his son's soft hair and the warmth from Luke's body as he looked around him. He was on a porch to a grand house. He thought about ringing the doorbell but got the feeling that he shouldn't be here. He reached down to his pocket and instead his hand found a padded black leather purse. He looked down and gasped as he saw a neatly manicured hand. A female hand, with bright red nails. His head jerked up as the heavy blue door opened before him, and he stared straight into the face of Nathan Petrelli.
"Hello sweetheart. Forget your key?" Nathan gave his best fake smile and Sylar shivered.
"What's going on?" His stomach turned as he failed to recognise the woman's voice that fell from his lips.
"Nothing's going on honey, come in, we're amazingly completely alone." Nathan walked off and started to climb the stairs as Sylar stepped inside. He saw a reflection of himself in a large gilt-framed mirror. He saw a thirty-ish blonde woman dressed in a dark blue tailored pant suit. God Nathan, way to be original. As he watched the mirror he saw the image ripple and his real self emerged. He followed Nathan up the stairs, keen to have an explanation.
Seeing the open doorway to one of the bedrooms he entered, looking to Nathan's reaction. Was he always this woman? Did Nathan know who he was married to? Nathan stared back at him, unsmiling. "You have a good day?"
Sylar nodded uncertainly and advanced on Nathan. The purse was still over his shoulder and he shrugged it off embarrassed. "Did you?"
Nathan looked down. "It was fine. Peter says hi." When their eyes met there was a whole soap opera going unsaid but for the life of him Sylar couldn't put his finger on what it was. Nathan's hands were on his shoulders and he felt like this was unbridled affection. Great, another sexless marriage. He had never been attracted to Nathan physically. He looked too cold, too preened and perfect. However there was something about him. He was confident, he was cool, and right now he was on his knees. "I want you to know how much I appreciate this Gabriel. I know you make a lot of concessions to me." He undid Sylar's fly with practised efficiency and took out his cock in a very business-like manner, not pulling aside clothing any more than he had to.
Sylar looked down at Nathan's perfect hair and dragged his fingers through it roughly, mussing it up. He watched thick, rose-coloured lips slide up his cock and had to look away. He focused on the feeling but couldn't put himself in this visual. It was as if they were being watched at all times, a standard blow job which couldn't be called passionate, but was going to achieve its desired goal. He imagined it was Mohinder but the absence of those gorgeous curls was too jarring so he switched to Luke. He stroked Nathan's hair, holding his head firmly but not aggressively. He let his fingertips drift down the back of Nathan's neck and felt the hum of pleasure resonate through his cock. Still he couldn't let go. There was something about the way Nathan said 'Peter says hi', which made him take notice. He glanced down and saw the discarded handbag and it was like his brain was piecing things together. Nathan started to roll his balls in his fingers and Sylar moaned, thrusting a little. He wanted to see Petrelli spread over his desk, begging. He didn't want him to drop to his knees voluntarily, he wanted to force him down, taking his mouth and fucking it until he was too debauched to lie, too desperate not to submit. He felt himself about to come and dragged Nathan's head back by the hair, splashing over his face and grinning as he saw the look of surprise. When he was done he turned away, listening to Nathan cough and heave himself up. He grabbed the purse form the floor and started to rifle through it.
"Well I guess I owed you that...A little warning would be nice next time."
Sylar looked at him cleaning his face with wet wipes from his nightstand. Typical that he would be so prepared. He would be amazed if there weren't rubber gloves and antiseptic in there too. His fingers ran over something smooth in the purse. Photographs. Pulling them out his breath froze in his lungs and the purse fell to the floor. Peter was braced against a bathroom wall as Nathan gripped him from behind in what Sylar guessed was not the Heimlich manoeuvre. Peter was smiling. Actually they both looked blissed out. Sylar looked at Nathan, who was staring back at him.
"What are they?" Nathan had that look of all politicians when they know someone has information that they don't.
Smirking, Sylar threw the photos on the bed and waited. When Nathan saw him he froze, and then smiled just a little too late.
"That's us. It's us."
Sylar cocked his head and felt the shiver which told him Nathan was lying. No surprise? No garbled excuses? "It's not us."
"Yeah, it is. Where did you get them?" Nathan was playing with his shirt cuffs like he always did when he was nervous.
"I took them." Fight a lie with a lie, Sylar thought, and sure enough, Nathan stopped in his tracks.
"Listen, I...it wasn't...I'm sorry. How can we make this right?"
Sylar laughed. "You're fucking your brother? And you're asking how you can make that right with your husband? God, your family could give the Borgias some lessons."
Nathan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because my husband shapeshifting into my brother to fuck me is completely normal. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, okay? I know what you're thinking, I've had three weekends with Peter and it's only July, but I can go until January without him, I can. I just....I just needed it to be really him."
Sylar blinked. "So having me, and me as Peter, and me as that cookie cutter Senator's wife, that's not enough?"
Nathan shook his head, confused. "Senator's wife? You're the First Lady. And you do a great job." He moved to put a tender hand to Sylar's head and let the other hand rest on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you. 413, it's yours."
"413?"
"You got it, you can go into the meeting as me, I'll stay here on lockdown. Just remember when those environmental campaigners come after me that I love you." Nathan kissed him with genuine affection and Sylar deepened it, thinking about what Nathan was saying. He was the President, and by extension, Sylar was the President. Nathan was trading off matters of state for carte blanche to have sex with his own brother. President, and all he had to do was give up three weekends of loveless sex every year, and okay, sometimes look like a woman, but president.
Pulling away, Sylar smiled. "I think we have a deal."
Nathan raised his eyebrows. "You're being very good about this, I thought you'd be mad."
Shrugging, Sylar hugged Nathan close and let a hand drift to his favourite part of Nathan's body, his perfect ass. "I'm a pretty open minded man Nathan. In fact, I'll give you a little treat for being so honest with me. Pick. Do you want to fuck me, or Peter, right now on this bed?"
Nathan smiled. "You."
As Sylar felt that familiar shiver he realised one of the downfalls of this setup. He could kid himself all he wanted that the sex and affection was less important than the power he would gain from this relationship, but deep down he wanted to be loved. Needed to be loved, because it was the one thing that people didn't want to lie about. As Nathan started to kiss him and undress him, his stomach started to turn again. He wasn't wanted. He was something that Nathan had to endure to get what he truly desired. Was that a life half-lived? He would outlive Nathan, like he would everyone else, but could he spend the next thirty or forty years living this lie? It had been about twenty minutes and he was already feeling like shit. Nathan's hands were stroking through his chest hair, he was probably thinking how he would prefer Peter's smooth boyish skin under his fingertips. As the thought entered his head he felt himself change and saw a genuine smile spread across his husband's face.
"Thank you baby." Nathan whispered as he held him close.
Throughout their love making, Sylar tried to forget he looked like Peter, but it wasn't easy when Nathan was calling his name. He wondered whether he reminded Peter he was his brother when he was inside him, or whether that was something he only did with a lookalike. "You're my beautiful baby brother" he kept saying, like he was convincing himself. Afterwards, Sylar changed back as fast as he could, and turned cold when Nathan rolled against his back, kissing him thankfully. "That was amazing. You even cried like he does. How did you know?"
As the tears continued to run down Sylar's cheeks, the white light came.
Continue to part 2/2
Pairing : Sylar/Mohinder, Sylar/Luke, Sylar/Nathan, Sylar/Peter, Sylar/Matt
Word count : 10,323
Notes : For
heroes_bigboom Beta read by
sylargrrrl
Art by
iluvbsbkevin and denied
Summary : Kelly Noble has the power to create multiple universes, but when Sylar takes it it forces a catastrophic chain of events. His future self must now force him to choose one of the five universes he has unwittingly set into motion. Five worlds, five husbands, but which will he choose?
The Five Husbands of Gabriel Gray
Prologue
Sylar blinked into nothingness. All was white, all was quiet, like some lazy movie interpretation of heaven. All he needed now was either a black or female actor, or possibly both, as God to seal the cliche. Instead, he saw himself.
"I know what you're thinking. And no, Angela Basset isn't going to appear as the Almighty any time soon, so relax. I'm from the future."
Sylar rolled his eyes. "And let me guess, I need to change my ways? You should know me better than that." His instincts told him to use power, but which? What had happened?
"You change your ways as often as you change your underwear so this shouldn't be a shock to the system. Kelly Noble."
"She had to go I'm afraid. You know what she can do. What I can do."
"I know, because I took it too, and I messed everything up because I couldn't stop myself. You have to choose which reality you want, you can't have them all."
Sylar's eyebrow twitched. "So I can have them all, I just shouldn't?"
"If you try, you'll end the world. You'll warp reality so badly that your life, your lives, will all run together, banging and crashing. You'll go insane, everyone will. Nothing will mean anything, you have to choose, or you'll be the ruler of a broken kingdom."
"But I will rule it?" He smirked.
Anger building inside him, the future Sylar set his jaw. "I'm stronger than you, I'm going to force your path for a while. You'll find yourself in each reality by turn and when they're done, you have to choose. When you do you'll be returned to your present. You might want to practise your surprised face."
"How can I choose when they're five completely different lives, this is ridiculous."
"Simple, I'm going to put you with each of your husbands. Seems like we're old fashioned boys at heart. Just wanna settle down. You have to pick one."
"What if I refuse?"
Future Sylar grinned, and disappeared. The white light faded.
Husband #1- Mohinder Suresh
Rubbing at his eyes in frustration as the spots of light dispersed, Sylar focused on the door. The door to Mohinder's old apartment. His first thought was that Mohinder was so stuck in his ways that he hadn't moved on from the same place that so much of his life's heartbreak had occurred. He patted his pocket and pulled out a key on a keyring which said 'World's Best Husband'. "Oh Christ..." He sighed and turned the key in the door.
The smell of cooking hit him as the door opened and he stepped inside. "Mohinder?" He glanced around and saw no-one. Maybe someone else had moved into Mohinder's apartment. Maybe he had. God forbid he would make a shrine out of this place. "Hello?"
"Don't touch anything!"
Mohinder's voice drifted in from the bedroom as Sylar looked around for things he could touch to irritate him. There were steaming pans on the cooker and Sylar couldn't help but peep inside. Curry. Something sparked in his memory, a little synaptic pop which led nowhere.
"I should have said 'Please touch things Sylar, it's imperative.' You'd think I'd have learned by now." Mohinder took the pan lid from him and replaced it. "And before you say anything, I did this because I felt like it, not because you told me to."
Sylar watched him walk away. They couldn't be married. It wasn't in either of them. Something had to be wrong. "What, no kiss? I believe it's customary."
"Huh." Mohinder ignored him, going to sit on the couch.
Unpeturbed, Sylar followed. "So how was your day?" He settled down next to Mohinder and tried not to get angry when he immediately shuffled down and away from him.
"My day was strikingly similar to that of an Indian housewife from the 1940s thank you so much en nanga."
Sylar mused on how difficult it was to unravel an argument in any situation, let alone when you weren't there at the start. Only one option remained. He put an arm around Mohinder's shoulder and one firmly on his thigh. "I'm sorry."
Mohinder looked at him, steely eyed. "What are you sorry for?"
"For....making you feel that way. I didn't mean to and I apologise. What can I do to make it up to you?" This was like speaking a foreign language for Sylar but he persisted. His choice had to be based on a typical day in their 'marriage' and if that meant pressing the reset button on an argument in which he was clearly right, then so be it.
Mohinder seemed to soften, and then immediately hate himself for it. "You can eat everything I put in front of you and never complain about it again. If you wanted to marry a stereotype you should have warned me. What's next? Bollywood dancing after dinner?"
Ah, so that was it. Sylar did love curry, if he thought it was an option he would ask anyone he married to cook it for him. Trust Mohinder to take umbridge like the martyr he was. "I won't ever ask again, God forbid you would want to embrace your heritage and that I, as your husband, would encourage you."
"Embrace my..! How many times have I asked you, no begged you to visit Chennai with me and how many times have you rolled your eyes and said we were both too busy?" Mohinder huffed and folded his arms. "You are unbelievable sometimes."
"Let's go then, let's go as soon as possible." Sylar could make as many promises as he wanted, he realised. He wasn't going to be the one to see them through. Not yet anyway. "Just please let's not fight about it any more, I don't want to fight with you."
"Well that'll be a first." Mohinder muttered.
God, this man was impossible. Sylar tried to recall what it was that usually shut Mohinder up when he was running his sarcastic mouth. Pain and violence? Didn't seem like an option unfortunately. Yet. He settled his head on Mohinder's shoulder and the man's smell hit him, the shampoo he used, the natural scent of his skin. It triggered off a set of memories which were bittersweet, but at least comforting. Losing himself in the moment he nuzzled at Mohinder's neck, letting the man's curls brush his forehead. God, he loved those curls. They were soft and begged to be pulled. "I love you Mohinder," he whispered, and it felt true. "Do you love me?"
Mohinder made the sigh which is familiar to anyone in a relationship as the herald of compromise. "Of course I love you."
Sylar hooked his leg between Mohinder's and half-straddled him, kissing at his neck. "So let's fuck and say no more about it?"
Pushing at him but getting nowhere Mohinder started to struggle. "I knew it! You only ever apologise when you want sex!" Despite his anger he kissed back hungrily, grabbing at Sylar's arms. Sylar ground into him pulling at Mohinder's shirt until it started to come loose, buttons popping. He nipped at Mohinder's throat and wrestled with his fly.
"That's not true, it's just that I always want sex. And sometimes I have recently apologised." Sylar managed to free Mohinder's cock and started jerking it roughly, grinning at the ecstatic moans which he knew were involuntary and unwanted. He watched as Mohinder screwed his eyes shut and wondered whether he was thinking about someone else. "Stay with me Mohinder. I'm going to - "
"Please don't talk, you know I hate your narration, it's so pointless."
Sylar jerked harder, sighing. "Fine." When Mohinder started to whimper a little he removed his hand and started to rid himself of his pants. He got them halfway down his thighs before he heard Mohinder tut. "What?"
"Just stand up and do it, you'll be here all night. We have about four minutes until dinner is ready, though that should be more than enough."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sylar stopped and put his hands on his hips.
"Nothing, just hurry up."
Hurt, Sylar tried to continue but found he couldn't. Something bit hard at him, something which seemed more from this reality than his own, something he couldn't quite place. It was compounded by Mohinder's hurried reaction to his current expression.
"I'm sorry darling, I didn't mean it, come on..." Mohinder ran his hands over Sylar's chest and tugged him towards him by the collar.
"I'm trying." Sylar said through gritted teeth. He needed re-assurance. Was he not good in bed? Did he have 'issues'? Was he impotent? Through glassy eyes he looked at Mohinder. "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing, you're fine. Look, I have to serve dinner, let's try again afterwards." Mohinder turned his face away as Sylar reluctantly rolled off him.
Sylar felt numb. Is this what marriage would be like? Fights and make-up sex which couldn't get going because secretly they hated each other? He dressed himself and stood, wandering to the small table where Mohinder was busy slamming down plates and avoiding his gaze. "You know you could be a little more supportive Mohinder, it's not my fault." He mumbled.
"No, I know it isn't." Mohinder turned back to the hob and muttered something under his breath.
"What?" Sylar demanded.
"I said it never is your fault is it? Nothing is ever your fault. I suppose it's mine for not turning you on enough, mine for not acquiescing to every perverted fantasy."
"Maybe if you loosened up and smiled once in a while, maybe if you knew how to have fun..." Sylar stopped in his tracks as he saw Mohinder's shoulders start to shake. He jumped up, powered by something inside of him which he didn't understand as yet. He gripped Mohinder's shoulders and was surprised when his husband spun around and buried himself tearfully in Sylar's embrace.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry my darling. I'm sorry you don't love me."
As Sylar's eyes snapped open he saw a white light and felt Mohinder slip from his grasp.
Husband #2 Luke Campbell
Sylar stared at the door, still shaking after the last encounter. His muscles ached and pulled as he tensed them, still thinking about how wrong Mohinder was, how arrogant he had been and how much he wanted him. He should go back. He wanted to go back to Mohinder, to fight and bite and scratch until there was nothing left of either of them. Surely that was how it was supposed to be, firey passion boiling them both from the inside out and periodically exploding in a mushroom cloud of hormones. He stared at the door again. It was purple for God's sake, what was he going to find behind this one? He fingered the key in his pocket, wondering what would happen if he just turned and went. Why should he choose? If he could float around the different realities he wouldn't just have power, he would have five chances to get each ability, five ways to rule the world.
"Five ways to be a God." he muttered to himself. But first it made sense to see them all, see what he was getting into. Sighing he tried the key in the door and pushed it. He was immediately hit with the smell of donuts and his mouth began to water involuntarily. The apartment was open plan; the kitchen on the left was a mess, a plastic donut maker abandoned with sticky tendrils of batter still clinging to it. To his right was an L-shaped couch which looked like it might swallow anything that dared touch it and a blaring TV with piles of DVD cases stacked precariously all around it. God, this place looked like a teenager lived he-
"Oh no." Sylar pushed the door closed behind him and saw that on the back of it was a picture of him and Luke at some amusement park or other, either side of a clown whose head had been cut out to allow for the door's spyhole. Cute.
"Hey, you're back!"
A shiver ran down Sylar's spine at the sound of Luke's voice and try as he might, he couldn't help but smile to see the kid alive. As Luke bounded toward him in a baggy pale blue hoody Sylar found himself accepting a crushing hug and squeezing back as the scent of donuts and drug store body spray invaded his nostrils. When Luke finally let go he saw that he was older, maybe twenty. His hair was a little longer and he had lost a little of the puppy fat he'd had the last time Sylar had seen him. "I'm back." he agreed, studying Luke's face for signs of the wariness and self-doubt he had had before, and which Sylar was sure his continuing influence on the boy would only have exacerbated.
"Want some donuts? I finally broke out that donut maker my cousin Natalie bought us for the wedding. It's not actually a piece of crap." Luke wandered into the kitchen and loaded two sickly looking pastries onto a side plate. "It's been in the box since then but it works."
Sylar regarded Luke with interest. He looked happy. Had he made him like this? Or was he happy despite his husband? Was he in denial over his misery like one of those 1950s housewives from the movies who cried themselves to sleep every night after their perfect dinner parties. "Wow, since the wedding? How long is that now?"
Luke looked up, trying to work it out. "Three years I guess...Yeah, three years in January right?" He handed Sylar the plate, sucking grease and sugar from the fingers of his other hand. "Try them, they're awesome."
He picked up a donut gingerly, taking a bite when he was sure that Luke wouldn't rest until he had. "Mmm." he moaned. "MMMM!"
"Right?" Luke beamed. "Course it's gonna be a bitch to clean but hey, worth it." He reached up to put his arms around Sylar, kissing him with shining lips. "What time do you want dinner?"
Sylar put down the plate on the kitchen counter pointedly and spun Luke round to press him against the door. "How about afterwards?" He kissed him hungrily, nipping at his lips and grinding against him until Luke started to fidget and try to move away. "What? What's the matter?"
Luke giggled, eyebrows raised. "What's gotten into you? You haven't kissed me like that since...like, ever."
"I haven't?" Sylar cocked his head, wondering what the hell kind of relationship this was.
"You know you haven't," Luke said softly. "Not....you know when we haven't been playing..." Luke whispered the last part even though there was no-one there to hear.
Sylar smirked. Playing? Nice. He nibbled at Luke's ear. "How do you know I'm not playing right now..?"
"Oh...OH! Oh okay...ahem. " Luke cleared his throat and widened his eyes in a performance that wasn't going to get him the Oscar but did make Sylar's cock sit up and take notice. "So Sylar, what are you doing here?"
Holding Luke flush against him, Sylar growled into his ear. "I came here from another reality and the last time I saw you you were only 17." He checked for the look on Luke's face and he wasn't horrified or crying, so he continued. "I don't know this reality, so why don't you give me the guided tour?" He dropped a few insistent kisses onto Luke's neck and squeezed his ass playfully.
Luke grinned, taking Sylar by the hand and leading him through the living room. "Well, Sylar, I'm 23 now and we've been married three years. But let me tell you, the sex hasn't dried up." He turned back and winked at Sylar, pulling him backwards through the doorway to their bedroom.
Sylar looked around. The room was dominated by the bed, big and squashy-looking like the couch. The walls were a mushroomy colour and the thick wooden bookshelves were covered in trinkets, photos and momentos. There were sea shells, pebbles, box frames full of diner logos on coasters and those little flags which held burgers together. There were framed pictures of what Sylar assumed to be family members. He recognised none of them except one baby which he couldn't place.
"So, Sylar, what are you going to do with me? The you from this reality might be home soon." Luke bounced his eyebrows, waiting for the next move.
Sylar smirked, pulling him down roughly onto the bed and smiling genuinely at the surprise in Luke's laugh. "Oh, the things I'm going to do to you, Luke Campbell." He growled.
"Mmm.." Luke pulled off his own hoody and quickly helped down his jeans. "My name's Luke Gray now, actually..."
***
So soft, sweet and pliable. Sylar couldn't believe how much he was enjoying this. He worked in Luke over and over, his moans like a soundtrack to his own comfort and need. Luke was satisfied, he knew, and would continue to be so. They were a couple - attuned to each others needs and more than willing to fulfill them. He found that he instinctively knew the answers to every question that Luke's body asked. Luke writhed beneath him, gripping and kissing Sylar where he liked to be touched - even that place below his hip which he thought nobody knew about. For the first time in his life he was making love how he had always been taught was right. He felt the love and affection, and the trust which allowed him to throw curve balls. They had played this game before - Sylar and Luke. He wondered what Luke would call him when the game ended.
"Mmmm, MMM, OH!" Luke bucked against him but didn't come. Sylar somehow knew it wasn't time. He bit down on Luke's neck and thrusted a few more times until sweat was running down his spine and Luke was becoming incoherent. "Come on...Come on..." he whispered, trembling. When they came in practised unison, they both laughed and cried at the same time.
***
Sylar let his head rest on Luke's, waiting for a sign he was awake. After a few minutes he heard him clear his throat and took the opportunity to squeeze him until he woke up, fidgeting and stroking at his chest hair.
"Hey, you awake, mystery boy?"
"Hmm, yeah I am. I guess my husband isn't back then?"
"No. And the stranger has some questions."
Luke rolled onto his back and stretched, smiling. "Okay, sure. Shoot."
Sylar leaned onto his side, looking over Luke with trepidation. "The last time I saw you, you were a runaway and I was a serial killer. How do you two live here like a sitcom when that's the truth of the past?"
Luke's eyes were two blue marbles, no suspicion, no questions. It seemed to Sylar that these questions had been asked before - every time that the twin weapons of self-doubt and self-loathing were loaded in the face of one who loved unconditionally. "Well," he cuddled Sylar close, kissing whatever area of skin was available. "We've both changed a hell of a lot since then."
The door bell rang insistently. Luke moaned and stretched, his bones cracking as he did so.
"Man...FUCK! What time is it?!"
Sylar let his eyes eek open and saw Luke reach for the alarm clock.
"God damn, didn't realise it was that time..." He launched himself off the bed and Sylar watched him pull on his jeans and hoody without underwear. "Why does she always see me obviously well fucked?" He dashed out of the room and Sylar sat on alert. He shuffled back, trying to listen to the muffled discussion at the door. Suddenly it closed firmly and he started to pant with anticipation, wondering who the 'she' was and whether she had any more surprises for him.
The door swept back and Luke entered. Sylar's breath stopped in his lungs and his eyes started to wet inexplicably.
"Look who it is!" Luke had in his arms a baby in a powder blue onesie, tiny plump fingers grasping at the air as the child gaped and stared. Luke sat in the middle of the bed, and Sylar saw something in his eyes - a look of warning and apology. "He's fine, look. He's happy."
Sylar watched as Luke held the baby up and lowered him to his lips, over and over. "Ba ba ba. Oh, you're so cute."
The baby laughed and Sylar felt himself put an arm round Luke's shoulder, pulling him closer. The incredulous look on Luke's face quickly flipped to a weak smile and Sylar's other arm circled the baby, brushing the fine hair on the back of his head with his fingers.
"Who's this?" he whispered, hoping that Luke would play along.
Luke laughed. "Well, Sylar, this is my son. Me and my husband's."
"Not biological."
"No, but our son all the same. Aren't you Jamie?"
The baby seemed pre-occupied with Sylar. Not reaching for him, but watching.
"My husband's always tense on Thursdays, cause it's the day the Company monitor Jamie. But he's fine, aren't you honey? And tomorrow we'll find out whether there are any manifestations. But there won't be. There never are."
The baby gurgled and Sylar stroked his head again, not really knowing why. Luke hugged the baby to him and Sylar gathered them both in his arms. When his forehead met the baby's, and the baby's met Luke's, the white light came.
Husband #3 Nathan Petrelli
Sylar had so many questions. He could still feel his son's soft hair and the warmth from Luke's body as he looked around him. He was on a porch to a grand house. He thought about ringing the doorbell but got the feeling that he shouldn't be here. He reached down to his pocket and instead his hand found a padded black leather purse. He looked down and gasped as he saw a neatly manicured hand. A female hand, with bright red nails. His head jerked up as the heavy blue door opened before him, and he stared straight into the face of Nathan Petrelli.
"Hello sweetheart. Forget your key?" Nathan gave his best fake smile and Sylar shivered.
"What's going on?" His stomach turned as he failed to recognise the woman's voice that fell from his lips.
"Nothing's going on honey, come in, we're amazingly completely alone." Nathan walked off and started to climb the stairs as Sylar stepped inside. He saw a reflection of himself in a large gilt-framed mirror. He saw a thirty-ish blonde woman dressed in a dark blue tailored pant suit. God Nathan, way to be original. As he watched the mirror he saw the image ripple and his real self emerged. He followed Nathan up the stairs, keen to have an explanation.
Seeing the open doorway to one of the bedrooms he entered, looking to Nathan's reaction. Was he always this woman? Did Nathan know who he was married to? Nathan stared back at him, unsmiling. "You have a good day?"
Sylar nodded uncertainly and advanced on Nathan. The purse was still over his shoulder and he shrugged it off embarrassed. "Did you?"
Nathan looked down. "It was fine. Peter says hi." When their eyes met there was a whole soap opera going unsaid but for the life of him Sylar couldn't put his finger on what it was. Nathan's hands were on his shoulders and he felt like this was unbridled affection. Great, another sexless marriage. He had never been attracted to Nathan physically. He looked too cold, too preened and perfect. However there was something about him. He was confident, he was cool, and right now he was on his knees. "I want you to know how much I appreciate this Gabriel. I know you make a lot of concessions to me." He undid Sylar's fly with practised efficiency and took out his cock in a very business-like manner, not pulling aside clothing any more than he had to.
Sylar looked down at Nathan's perfect hair and dragged his fingers through it roughly, mussing it up. He watched thick, rose-coloured lips slide up his cock and had to look away. He focused on the feeling but couldn't put himself in this visual. It was as if they were being watched at all times, a standard blow job which couldn't be called passionate, but was going to achieve its desired goal. He imagined it was Mohinder but the absence of those gorgeous curls was too jarring so he switched to Luke. He stroked Nathan's hair, holding his head firmly but not aggressively. He let his fingertips drift down the back of Nathan's neck and felt the hum of pleasure resonate through his cock. Still he couldn't let go. There was something about the way Nathan said 'Peter says hi', which made him take notice. He glanced down and saw the discarded handbag and it was like his brain was piecing things together. Nathan started to roll his balls in his fingers and Sylar moaned, thrusting a little. He wanted to see Petrelli spread over his desk, begging. He didn't want him to drop to his knees voluntarily, he wanted to force him down, taking his mouth and fucking it until he was too debauched to lie, too desperate not to submit. He felt himself about to come and dragged Nathan's head back by the hair, splashing over his face and grinning as he saw the look of surprise. When he was done he turned away, listening to Nathan cough and heave himself up. He grabbed the purse form the floor and started to rifle through it.
"Well I guess I owed you that...A little warning would be nice next time."
Sylar looked at him cleaning his face with wet wipes from his nightstand. Typical that he would be so prepared. He would be amazed if there weren't rubber gloves and antiseptic in there too. His fingers ran over something smooth in the purse. Photographs. Pulling them out his breath froze in his lungs and the purse fell to the floor. Peter was braced against a bathroom wall as Nathan gripped him from behind in what Sylar guessed was not the Heimlich manoeuvre. Peter was smiling. Actually they both looked blissed out. Sylar looked at Nathan, who was staring back at him.
"What are they?" Nathan had that look of all politicians when they know someone has information that they don't.
Smirking, Sylar threw the photos on the bed and waited. When Nathan saw him he froze, and then smiled just a little too late.
"That's us. It's us."
Sylar cocked his head and felt the shiver which told him Nathan was lying. No surprise? No garbled excuses? "It's not us."
"Yeah, it is. Where did you get them?" Nathan was playing with his shirt cuffs like he always did when he was nervous.
"I took them." Fight a lie with a lie, Sylar thought, and sure enough, Nathan stopped in his tracks.
"Listen, I...it wasn't...I'm sorry. How can we make this right?"
Sylar laughed. "You're fucking your brother? And you're asking how you can make that right with your husband? God, your family could give the Borgias some lessons."
Nathan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because my husband shapeshifting into my brother to fuck me is completely normal. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, okay? I know what you're thinking, I've had three weekends with Peter and it's only July, but I can go until January without him, I can. I just....I just needed it to be really him."
Sylar blinked. "So having me, and me as Peter, and me as that cookie cutter Senator's wife, that's not enough?"
Nathan shook his head, confused. "Senator's wife? You're the First Lady. And you do a great job." He moved to put a tender hand to Sylar's head and let the other hand rest on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you. 413, it's yours."
"413?"
"You got it, you can go into the meeting as me, I'll stay here on lockdown. Just remember when those environmental campaigners come after me that I love you." Nathan kissed him with genuine affection and Sylar deepened it, thinking about what Nathan was saying. He was the President, and by extension, Sylar was the President. Nathan was trading off matters of state for carte blanche to have sex with his own brother. President, and all he had to do was give up three weekends of loveless sex every year, and okay, sometimes look like a woman, but president.
Pulling away, Sylar smiled. "I think we have a deal."
Nathan raised his eyebrows. "You're being very good about this, I thought you'd be mad."
Shrugging, Sylar hugged Nathan close and let a hand drift to his favourite part of Nathan's body, his perfect ass. "I'm a pretty open minded man Nathan. In fact, I'll give you a little treat for being so honest with me. Pick. Do you want to fuck me, or Peter, right now on this bed?"
Nathan smiled. "You."
As Sylar felt that familiar shiver he realised one of the downfalls of this setup. He could kid himself all he wanted that the sex and affection was less important than the power he would gain from this relationship, but deep down he wanted to be loved. Needed to be loved, because it was the one thing that people didn't want to lie about. As Nathan started to kiss him and undress him, his stomach started to turn again. He wasn't wanted. He was something that Nathan had to endure to get what he truly desired. Was that a life half-lived? He would outlive Nathan, like he would everyone else, but could he spend the next thirty or forty years living this lie? It had been about twenty minutes and he was already feeling like shit. Nathan's hands were stroking through his chest hair, he was probably thinking how he would prefer Peter's smooth boyish skin under his fingertips. As the thought entered his head he felt himself change and saw a genuine smile spread across his husband's face.
"Thank you baby." Nathan whispered as he held him close.
Throughout their love making, Sylar tried to forget he looked like Peter, but it wasn't easy when Nathan was calling his name. He wondered whether he reminded Peter he was his brother when he was inside him, or whether that was something he only did with a lookalike. "You're my beautiful baby brother" he kept saying, like he was convincing himself. Afterwards, Sylar changed back as fast as he could, and turned cold when Nathan rolled against his back, kissing him thankfully. "That was amazing. You even cried like he does. How did you know?"
As the tears continued to run down Sylar's cheeks, the white light came.
Continue to part 2/2