Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes in any way. I'm just borrowing them because... well... I like having Sylar and Mohinder *together* again...
Author's Note: Set during the episode Parasite of season 1 of Heroes.
"This is..." His hand trembled as he raised it to aim the gun.
He'd been about to say: 'revenge.' Part of him certainly wanted that. This man had killed his father - it was his duty to get vengeance.
...Was it?
He stared at the bound man for another moment, the gun still held high.
Sylar had been pleading for mercy. Begging for his life. He wanted to live. Did Mohinder have the right to play God?
Mohinder certainly knew that he wasn't God. Hell, he wasn't even superhuman. He was ordinary - so ordinary, that his father had ignored him and his accomplishments. For all of his life, he had tried to make his father notice him. To make him appreciate him - love him. He had only recently found out it was a hopeless battle.
Shanti was only five when she died, but she had already cemented herself within Chandra Suresh's heart as the only child who mattered. The older geneticist had devoted the rest of his life to her - and hadn't cared that his reputation and his marriage slowly crumbled over the years. He had cared about Shanti, who he had known for five years, more than he did for Mohinder, who he had known - or could have, if he had taken the chance to - for twenty seven years.
Sylar did him a favor by killing Chandra, Mohinder thought briefly. Suddenly he felt guilty for the thought, then angry. His love for his father had died years ago - then why must he avenge a man he didn't care about?
He wasn't Inigo Montoya. He was Mohinder Suresh, an accomplished geneticist, with much of his life to look forward to. Why, then, was he obsessing over what was truly unimportant to him?
Mohinder was barely conscious of his hand slowly lowering. It was only when the gun dropped to the ground that he realized what he was doing.
He looked to Sylar again, who was watching him with surprised confusion etched across his face.
"You're not going to kill me?" Disbelieving.
"No." Mohinder stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. "How do you take powers from people?"
Sylar looked, if possible, even more surprised.
"A magician never reveals his secrets."
"Please," Mohinder said simply. He walked to him, and cocked his head slightly.
"You want to know for your research," Sylar mused.
"I'm curious," Mohinder shrugged. Now he was standing only a foot from Sylar, staring down at him. "I don't know what your original power was, only that it enabled you to take other people's powers. Your modus operandi is slicing the top of people's heads off. I'm assuming you need to do this to take their power."
Sylar just watched him in silence.
"My father took brain scans of other people with powers - they didn't appear to have anything abnormal in their brains. But you can... see? understand? their powers, so you can take them..." He trailed off, brow furrowing unconsciously, thinking some more.
"Very good, doctor." Sylar was smiling at him - almost, hungrily. For all that Mohinder knew he had bound the serial killer to the seat, the geneticist suddenly felt like the prey to Sylar's predatory gaze.
"So when you find that spot - where their power is... How do you take it?" Mohinder wondered. "Actually having to eat it would be completely cliched..."
"And disgusting," Sylar added with a tinge of humor.
"You couldn't simply place that part in your brain... So how do you... I don't know." Mohinder was officially stumped.
There was silence, strangely peaceful, for a few minutes, then Sylar broke it.
"I was a watchmaker once."
Mohinder blinked at the non sequitur.
"A watchmaker?" He thought for a moment, then grinned. "You fixed watches, so you must have an understanding of how things work? Is that your power? Intuitive aptitude... Yes, with an ability like that, you could understand the complexities of the human brain, perhaps even fix your own!" He ended triumphantly. "You must have a way to manipulate your own DNA to adjust for a new power once you've seen how it works."
"Very, very impressive." Even in his binds, Sylar managed to stretch luxuriously for a moment. He was utterly elegant and almost feline like that. So unlike the Zane persona he had affected - but just as devastatingly attractive.
""The first time... I met someone else like me," Sylar began, "A man with telekinesis... I wanted his power. I simply had to have it. He was the first man I killed."
"How many have you killed?" Mohinder whispered in horror.
"You don't want to know," Sylar responded. "I can't help it, you know. I can't control -"
"The hunger," Mohinder murmured. "You said so - on the tape... It came with your power, didn't it?"
"Yes." For a moment, the intense look left Sylar's eyes, and he glanced to the floor. "It's always there."
"Nothing else helps?" Mohinder asked, then felt a little stupid.
"Only a few things." Sylar practically purred. Mohinder stepped back once, his mouth opening and something lower responding as well.
"You - you - what?" He shook his head, sure he had misinterpreted that comment. Get your mind out of the gutter, Mohinder chided himself.
Sylar watched in amusement, then gently changed topics.
"I appreciate you not killing me. Are you going to let me go?"
"What will you do to me?" Mohinder's voice remained calm, belying his inward fear.
"Nothing you don't want me to," Sylar smiled. "I will help you with your research, Mohinder."
"But you'll kill again - " he blurted out.
"I will attempt to curb my hunger."
God help him, Mohinder thought desperately, but the man seemed so sincere. There must be something deeply wrong with him, putting trust in a serial killer, but it felt right, and that was all that mattered at the moment.
"Will you help me?" Sylar asked. No longer the predator, but still fiercely determined despite the plea.
"God help me," Mohinder whispered. "Yes - I will help you."
Then he was kneeling, and undoing the ties on Sylar's ankles. He glanced up, and glimpsed Sylar's face in shadow, staring down at him, and flushed slightly. In a moment, he was back on his feet, and removing the bonds on Sylar's wrists.
"Thank you," Sylar whispered, and Mohinder paused standing up.
Their faces were millimeters apart. Then Sylar was standing, gently pushing him back, and he had removed the IV, and Mohinder could feel those solid hands on his waist.
"I haven't had anybody's faith in such a long time." His smile was genuine. "You know, I meant what I said earlier, before you drugged me... I am incredibly lucky to have met you."
The simple heat of those hands was burning him, but he couldn't move. He couldn't look away, he was riveted on those eyes that positively smoldered at him - how hadn't he seen this before, Mohinder wondered for a moment before all rational thought left his mind.
Warm, chapped lips were pressing against his own. If he thought those hands were hot, Sylar's mouth was like an inferno. Then he was kissing back and the other man's tongue carefully stroked his lips. Mohinder was quite happy to open his mouth and allow Sylar full access.
God, who knew a killer could be such an amazing kisser? Mohinder's knees were weak, his stomach coiled with tension - of the good kind, and he was vaguely aware of the gasps and moans Sylar elicited from him. Arms wrapped around him, pulling him in tighter, and he was gripping Sylar's shirt to him for dear life.
He had no idea how this would end. Trusting a serial killer with his life, his body, and his emotions... It was risky and highly dangerous. But he was determined to save Sylar, and by any means necessary - especially this way.
If he couldn't save Sylar, getting involved with him could result in his being dragged down with him into hell. He was intense in everything he did, kissing not excepted. It seemed as if Sylar could consume him entirely, and Mohinder was perfectly willing to let him do so.
Sylar was gently moving him into the bedroom, and Mohinder's clothes were being thrown off via telekinesis. Mohinder was pushed down onto the bed, and he became lost in the feelings Sylar was arousing in him.
If this was hell, Mohinder didn't care, because it felt too damn good.