Title: Thirteen Days
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder, Peter/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Slash, angst, character death, OC, AU, hints at Mpreg

Chapter 1

Manu felt sick. He still couldn't wrap his mind around how quickly his whole life had changed. It seemed like only a moment ago he had been walking home from school, irritated at the knowledge that his father had forgotten to come get him--he hated remembering those thoughts, hated himself for feeling that way when not long ago it had all felt so justified--only to walk through the front door to find the only parent he had ever known lying face first on the cold ground. His mind reeled as his whole world came crashing down around him.

Time shifted, seeming to move faster and slower all at once. His body had felt as if it were no longer in his control as he rushed over to the fallen man, shaking his shoulders and calling his name in a desperate attempt to revive him. He'd been convinced that it had all been a joke--an ill conceived, uncharacteristic prank--yet when he received no response and felt the coldness of his father's skin he knew that this was all too real. The next thing he knew, he was scrambling over to the phone, feeling his fingers dialing faster than his mind could even process.

Time crawled by at a painfully slow pace as Manu waited for help to arrive--the sight of his father's prone figure making his heart beat quicken, making his stomach clench tightly and jump into his chest--but when they did they were no more successful than he had been at reviving his father. He was gone.

The doctors told him that there had been nothing that he could have done. He had been at school when his father had had his heart attack. It was sudden. No one could have seen it coming.

He remembered the way his heart had tightened at the thought. It wasn't right. His father wasn't supposed to die. Not like this. The man had only been in his mid forties. He had had many years and an entire career ahead of him. Yet now there was nothing.

Time slowed down then. Minutes crawled by at a snail's pace as he sat in the waiting room feeling lost and alone. The nurses took pity on him, giving him constant attention and asking him questions. Was he alright? Did he want anything to eat? Anything to drink? Did he feel sleepy at all? Although the child appreciated their concern, he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his thoughts.

He was thankful when his grandmother came for him. He remembered the way she had held him closely as he cried openly into her blouse. She had told him that everything was going to be alright. Told him that his father would be fine--he was with grandfather now--but he would have to be strong now. He was the only man left in the family.

The day of the funeral snuck up on him quickly. Manu felt as if he had just rolled out of bed (after a night left without sleep) and had been instantly wrapped in his funeral attire. He watched through red, unblinking eyes as the funeral service was carried out before him. His stomach churned as he saw his father's friends and colleagues gather around his still, lifeless body.

His father's eyes had been closed now, and for that Manu was eternally thankful. He knew that if he had seen those glassy, unfocused orbs, he'd completely lose control of himself. (Those unblinking eyes, already hazy with death, were still etched into his mind.) His whole body began to shake as he watched them anoint his father. Soon he would have to do his part. His one duty as the eldest (or in this case, only) son. He would have to walk around the pyre three times and sprinkle water into it. He'd have to speak his last words to his father in front of all these people, strangers in his eyes, and then never seen the man who had taken care of him, who'd given him life, again.

Stomach, heart, mind all began to twist and churn at the prospect. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't accept that it would have to end this way. It wasn't fair, not to him or his father.

It was then, while no one was watching, that Manu ran.

-+-+-+-

Manu was surprised that he'd managed to slip away from the service so easily. It took a good while before the sound of his heart churning in his ears quieted just long enough so that he could hear that no one was following him. Yet that did not stop him from running as fast as he could down the beach. All that he was hoping for was to get far away from the funeral. He just wanted to hide long enough to avoid the judgmental eyes of the other mourners.

His legs started to burn as his face soon became flushed. Deep inside, Manu knew that what he was doing was stupid, childish, and completely disrespectful. His eyes stung as he felt the tears welling up. He knew in his heart that he could not escape from what was happening. His father would still be dead no matter how far away he got. His grandmother would find him eventually and take him home. In a day or two, he would have to return to collect his father's remains. And then what? They would mourn for a few days and then be expected to move on with their lives? How? How could anyone go on living when the person who meant more than anything to you was gone for good?

Manu found himself slowing down as his legs suddenly started to feel like jelly. Hot tears were now freely flowing down his cheeks and he found that he could no longer resist his stomach's protests. Falling to his knees on the sand, the boy closed his eyes and emptied out the contents of his stomach, coughing and sputtering as he did so.

"Why?" he choked, his entire body shaking. These feelings were just too much for him. He wished that he could just wash away with the tide. "Why? Why? Why? Why!"

"Because life's not fair."

He felt his head snap up quickly at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Taking in long, trembling breaths, Manu felt his face turn bright red at the idea that someone had actually been watching him as he broke down.

Easing himself onto his side, Manu looked over to the stranger standing a few feet away from him. He looked completely out of place, dressed head to two in dark colored clothes, hands stuffed in his jacket pocket, and standing in the middle of a sandy beach. He was foreign, Manu knew as much just from his pale skin and strange accent, and his tall stature and dark eyes told something inside the child that he should fear this man.

"Is it true?" the man asked him, taking a few steps closer as Manu fought the urge to scramble backwards in fear. Instead he stayed stock still, his jaw set firm and his eyes narrowed. "Is he really dead?"

He stayed silent. His father had warned him several times about speaking to strangers. He had dishonored the man enough today, he wouldn't allow his foolish tongue to do any further damage.

His silence only served to irritate the dark man. He glowered at him, but his steps were unwavering. Before he knew it, the man was standing right in front of him, peering down at the boy with frustrated, angry eyes. Manu practically had to roll onto his back just so he could look him in the eye.

"I said 'is he dead'?" he asked again, this time much slower, pronouncing the words carefully. Obviously the man took his silence for a poor grasp of the English language and if Manu's mind wasn't already so jumbled with emotion, he'd be more than a little insulted by the assumption. "Is Mohinder Suresh really dead?"

Manu felt his eyes soften in understanding. He was a mourner. The man must have been one of the many people his father had met in America. It was a surprise to say the least. The funeral had been arranged so quickly that Manu was almost certain his grandmother had neglected to tell his father's American friends what had transpired. His heart sank as his eyes began to water once more. Above him the sky began to grow dark as angry storm clouds quickly gathered. He'd been trying to hold back all day, but he just couldn't do it anymore. Squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he could, Manu barely managed to give the man a quick nod in response.

"Yes," he gasped finally. The words felt thick and uncomfortable as he forced them out. It pained him to admit it, and he realized then that it was the first time he'd actually said the words since he'd discovered the man's body. "He is dead. My father is dead."

The man's sharp breath was practically piercing. Manu looked up at him from between wet lashes to see a storm of emotions wash over the man's face. Anger, pain, frustration, and confusion all flashed before his eyes as he clinched his teeth together and dug his hands further into his pockets. For a brief instant, he looked as if he were going to cry, and Manu would have been more than willing to look away in order to save them both the embarrassment, but instead he found himself being pinned under the stranger's dark brown eyes. His gaze practically crushed him, as he continued glaring down at the boy as if he'd suddenly come to a hard conclusion.

"I guess this means you're coming with me," he practically hissed.

Before Manu could even ask what the man had meant by his words, he felt himself being grabbed by the back of his shirt and pulled off of the sand. He gasped, wide eyes staring in disbelief at the man in front of him. The stranger hadn't moved an inch, his hands were still buried in his pockets, yet Manu knew, somehow, that he was the one placing him back on his feet. Thunder crashed above them as the man reached out and grabbed his upper arm, holding him in a tight, vice like grasp. Manu hissed in pain as he was dragged away, fat drops of rain plummeting towards the ground.

He could have protested. He could have struggled. Kicked, screamed, done... anything, but instead he just let the dark man drag him away. At that moment, this was exactly what he wanted. Soon he would be with his father again.