Title: Between the Rhythm of Hello and What
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar (Gabriel)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: blood, Sylar-ness
Summary: The government has been tinkering in the field of genetics for quite some time now and have finally figured out a way to change a person's DNA. A group of average people are chosen to be "changed". As their abilities grow, one man by the name of Gabriel Gray finds himself being consumed by his power.

A/N: Posted at the LJ comm heroes_bigboom

Chapter 1 – We are the Heroes

He was teaching a class when they came for him, burly men in black suits flashing their FBI badges, and leading him from the lecture hall as the class watched in awe. They offered no explanation, taking him to his room and ordering him to pack up everything he wanted because he wasn't coming back.

He stuffed as much clothing as he could into his black duffel bag, barely managing to squeeze in toothbrush, comb, shaving cream, and razor. He packed up his laptop into its small backpack and grabbed the picture of himself with his father on his graduation day.

They ushered him into a long black car with tinted windows, shoving him onto the floor so that he couldn't see outside. They drove for hours and he eventually fell asleep. They woke him some time later and he climbed out of the car.

There was a large three-story brick building, looking very out of place in the middle of the forest. He grabbed his things and followed the agents into the building. They led him up to the third floor.

There was a long hallway dotted with doors, which they walked down, finding the third door on the right. An agent opened the door and pushed him inside, shutting it with a snap. It was a nice sized room with a beige carpet and cream coloured walls. He turned to see two full sized beds with dark blue bedspreads, the only bit of colour in the room.

One of the beds had someone laying on it. The man's thick black brows and somewhat prominent nose gave him a sinister look. But then he looked up and a broad grin spread across his face, making the honey-caramel eyes sparkle and crinkle at the corners.

"Hi!" he said brightly, his voice silky and smooth, "My name's Gray, Gabriel Gray."

"Mohinder Suresh. What's going on? Why am I here?"

"Hell if I know," Gabriel said with a shrug, "They came for me in the middle of the night, scared my roommate half to death. All they told me was that I had been hand chosen by the President for some government project or something."

"That's more than they told me," Mohinder muttered crossly, "They just came and interrupted my class in the middle of a lecture."

"Well, Mohinder, go ahead and unpack, make yourself at home. I think we're gonna have to stay here whether we like it or not, based on those FBI dudes. Bathroom's over there, take the chest of drawers on the left," Gabriel told him, pointing to the far wall.

"A private bathroom?" Mohinder queried.

"Yup. Say, are you British?"

"I was born in India, but my family moved to Oxfordshire when I was three," Mohinder replied, folding what clothes he had and placing them in the drawers.

"Cool,"

Mohinder stuck his toiletries in the bathroom, plugged his laptop in and placed it on a small table in the corner of the room. He had just put his graduation picture on the bedside table, when the door opened and a man he hadn't seen before stuck his head in.

"Mr. Gray, Dr. Suresh, please come with me. The others are waiting to begin dinner," the man said. Mohinder stood with his hands on his hips defiantly.

"Why?" he asked, "What are we doing here?"

"All will be explained," the man replied, opening the door wider to reveal more of his broad body, "Come with me."

Mohinder grumbled, but exited the room, Gabriel hopping off the bed and following close behind.

"So, doctor, huh?" Gabriel said as they walked, "Is that MD or PhD?"

"PhD," Mohinder answered, "I'm a geneticist and I teach at University of California at Berkeley. Well, I did anyway."

"I'm a watchmaker slash watch repairman," Gabriel told him. Mohinder smiled.

"Cool."

"The word 'cool' sounds weird with your accent."

"So, never say it again?"

"Yup."

"What do you expect me to say instead? Smashing?"

"Yup."

Mohinder rolled his eyes.

"Why is it people think that just because I'm British I should have to speak in British slang? Nobody has said 'smashing' for probably about fifty years," Mohinder complained. Gabriel chuckled.

"We Americans can be annoying like that," he replied.

"I'll say," Mohinder muttered.

By now, they had arrived down on the first floor and were standing in front of a rather large wooden door. They could hear chatter from inside the room. Their escort nodded and Mohinder reached forward to open the door. He and Gabriel stepped inside.

There was a long table, set with plates, glasses, and silverware. Eleven others already sat there: five men, one boy, two teenaged girls, one younger girl, and two women.

Another man stood off to the side. He was tall and thin with dark brown hair pulled into a low ponytail and bright blue eyes. He wore a black suit pinstriped with silver. His manner was crisp and clean.

"Ah, our final guests have arrived!" he said jovially, his kind voice betraying the tough-guy, mob boss-like appearance, "Thank you, Charles."

The escort inclined his head and left, closing the door behind him.

"Sit, my good men, sit!" the man said, indicating the only empty seats, "My name is Benjamin and I'm the reason you're here. Explanations all in good time, but first, I believe some introductions are in order."

Mohinder and Gabriel sat.

"Don't be shy!" Benjamin scolded them with a smile, "Why don't we start with you, Mr. Gray?"

Gabriel looked up sharply to the meet the smiling Benjamin's eye. He glared for a moment before looking down at his hands.

"Gabriel Gray."

Benjamin then nodded to Mohinder.

"Mohinder Suresh, PhD."

Mohinder felt slightly pompous, adding his title like that, but he felt that it was necessary to give the full effect.

Beside Mohinder was one of the teenagers, a junior in high school he guessed, who had long dirty-blonde hair with fringe hanging in her eyes. She introduced herself as Claire Bennett. Beside her was the other teenager, also blonde, who was named Elle Bishop.

They continued around the rectangular table, announcing their names. The introductions done, Benjamin clapped his hands together sharply.

"Great! Now, we eat!"

The meal was a mostly silent affair, with people concentrating too much on the delicious food and their own thoughts to make much conversation. Two of the men were obviously Japanese in descent and spoke to each other quietly in their native language. A few comments were made by a man Mohinder recognized as Nathan Petrelli, one of the men who were up for election for the Senate, about the quality of the food. These comments were echoed by a younger guy, his hair flopping over his eyes, but with an obvious family resemblance, and rightly so, seeing as it was Nathan's brother Peter.

Micah Sanders, a young boy with mocha skin and a mass of black curls carried on a shy, whispered conversation with the businesswoman beside him Tracy Strauss.

Beside the Petrelli brothers was a woman with short, windswept blonde hair so light that it was almost white. If the crutches leaning against the table were any indication, she had a crippling case of polio. She had introduced herself as Daphne Millbrook and she kept her eyes on the food before her, occasionally glancing towards the man beside her. In the contrast to Daphne's lithe frame, the man, a cop by the name of Matt Parkman, was solidly built and a little on the heavy side. He didn't seem to notice Daphne's glances as his attention was focused solely on the girl beside him, his adoptive daughter Molly.

Mohinder preferred people watching to conversation during mealtimes, and as his gaze swept around the room, the geneticist tried to figure out what kind of government project such a group of myriad shapes and sizes could have been chosen for. When the final dishes had been cleared away, Benjamin stood before them once more.

"Now, I'm sure you'd all like to know why you're here,"

"You bet your ass we do," came a muttered reply from Matt Parkman. A nervous chuckle went around the table.

"Thank you, Detective Parkman," Benjamin said crisply, "As I was saying, you have all been chosen specifically for a new government experiment. Come with me."

Hesitantly, they all stood and followed Benjamin up to the second floor. They entered what was obviously a lab, beeping machines all around. In the centre of the room was something that looked like a huge soup pot. Benjamin stopped before it. He pulled on latex gloves and picked up a syringe that was lying on the table, dipping into the pot. When he drew it out again, they could see the syringe was full of a murky gray-green fluid.

"This experiment," Benjamin told them grandly, "is a breakthrough in genetic engineering. We are working with your very DNA!"

Mohinder frowned slightly. Where was Benjamin going with this? The scientist part of him was eager to learn what exactly Benjamin meant by "working" with their DNA, but other part of him was, to tell the truth, scared. His father, also a geneticist, had also been doing experiments with DNA, which is what led to his murder.

"Our DNA specifically?" Nathan Petrelli asked his voice accusatory, "Have you been following us or something?"

"Certainly not, Mr. Petrelli," Benjamin said, "I didn't actually mean yours specifically, but rather human DNA in general. All of you were chosen for very different reasons. Some, for diversity," he indicated the two children standing beside Matt, "Some, for specific skills you might have, such as being a good leader or extremely smart. We want to see how the changes we will make to you will affect the different types of people."

"You're going to make changes to us by—what? Moving around our DNA?" Matt asked him curiously, "Are you going to go make me blonde or something?"

"That's impossible," Mohinder interrupted. All eyes turned to him and he continued, albeit more shyly.

"You can't change someone's genetic makeup to permanently alter their appearance."

Benjamin smiled.

"My dear Dr. Suresh, who said anything about physical appearance?"

He placed the syringe down on the metal table and pulled the gloves off with a snap, disposing them in a receptacle on the floor.

"Is this legal?" one of the Japanese men, a younger-looking one with a round face and oval glasses, asked in halting English.

"I assure you, Mr. Nakamura, I have full permission from the President to conduct this experiment," Benjamin told him soothingly.

"What about permission from us?" the other Japanese, Ando, queried. A mumble of agreement swept through the group.

"You have been hand picked, each of you for a specific reason," Benjamin told them acidly, his jovial demeanor slipping, "If you would like, I can go through every single one of those reasons later. But right now, you are being invited to participate in an extremely important government experiment," Benjamin continued, putting such an emphasis on 'invited' that Mohinder could tell it was more of a demand than a request, "If you have a problem with that, you may certainly bring it up with any of the personnel." He indicated the burly men who flanked the group.

"And now, follow me."

With an inclination of his head, Benjamin began to walk away. Mohinder now found himself in step with Matt Parkman.

"So your PhD is in this kind of stuff?"

"Genetics, yes."

"That's pretty cool. I'm just a lowly cop. Detective, really, but lowly none the less."

"At least you get to help people every day," Mohinder sighed, "I just teach."

"Teaching is important," Matt said, nudging him playfully, "Good teaching is what saved my little Molly's life."

Mohinder looked over to where Molly was making conversation with the young boy, Micah.

"Some madman broke into her house and murdered her parents," Matt explained quietly, "She had the good sense to go hide and call the cops. I found her in her parents' closet. She heard the whole thing."

"That's awful," Mohinder murmured, "It was very good of you to take her in."

"In the beginning, I didn't really have much of a choice. But after a few months of being her state appointed guardian, we both came to the conclusion that I should adopt her," Matt said, sighing slightly, "I'm glad I did. She's a good kid."

They smiled at one another.

"Mohinder."

Mohinder turned. Gabriel appeared at his side and grabbed his arm. Benjamin had stopped at a small door and was waiting for people to catch up. Mohinder thanked his roommate and made his way to the front. He didn't see the scathing look that Gabriel sent Matt. Once they had all crowded around, Benjamin began.

"This may be hard to believe, but the gene injection that you will be given tomorrow will allow you to receive special abilities. Powers, let's say,"

There was a snort of disbelief from a number of people, Mohinder included.

"I thought you might say that."

Benjamin opened the door to reveal what was obviously an observation area, looking into a large concrete room through a thick Plexiglas window. Inside the room lay a man, bound to a metal bed that was, in turn, bolted to the floor. An air tank stood beside the bed and the tube attached to it was draped over the nozzle.

"Normally, we keep him sedated, but I thought you might need a little demonstration. You see," Benjamin began, "when we first suggested this project to the president, he told us that we had to do test on Death Row inmates before we could inject normal citizens. What Mr. President didn't take into account, however, was the fact that we can't control what ability the injected person receives. As a result, this killer was given the power to cut things by only pointing a finger. Impossible you say? Let's find out."

Benjamin used a key card to open the door and led them inside the holding room.

"Hello, Clarence," he called out softly. Clarence turned his bald head to look at Benjamin with piggy eyes and mumbled something incomprehensible.

"I've brought you some visitors."

Clarence let out an angry growl and whipped his hand out as far as he could with the restraints, his extended finger pointed towards teenaged Claire. She let out a little scream as a straight cut appeared on her arm, going from her elbow to her palm. Benjamin jumped into action, stepping in front of the group and approaching the inmate, holding down the restrained man's hands. Two guards rushed in, one ushering a sobbing Claire away, the other shoving a sedation tube up Clarence's nose. The inmate struggled for a moment and then lay still as the sedative took hold. Benjamin stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

"Are you insane!" shouted Peter Petrelli, "You deliberately put us in danger! What if it had been her throat or one of the kids'?"

Benjamin turned.

"Now you believe me,"

It wasn't a question.

"Enough excitement for one night, I think. Off to bed with you lot."

Mohinder followed Gabriel back to their room blindly, immersed in his own thoughts. It's impossible, the geneticist in him argued. You saw it with your own eyes, countered the other part of his brain. But it's impossible, persisted the geneticist, Gene replacement therapy, maybe, but introducing a whole new gene without the host body rejecting it immediately? The other half of his was silent but for one thought. You saw it.

"Mohinder?"

Mohinder snapped out of his thought to see that they had arrived back at their room. It wasn't until they were both showered and lying in their respective beds that Mohinder spoke.

"What do you think of all of this, Gabriel?"

"All of what?"

"Genetic alteration. Changing people's very chemical makeup to make them what you want them to be."

"To make them better, you mean," Gabriel said.

"Not necessarily better," Mohinder countered, "A murderer who was on Death Row who is now able to kill people with just a flick of his wrist and a pointed finger? Doesn't sound better to me."

"Maybe not better for the world as a whole," Gabriel replied, "but better for the individual."

"So you're all for it then?"

"Yup. I think it's neat."

They lay in silence for a few moments.

"What about you, Mo?"

"Mo?" Mohinder chuckled.

"Yeah. It's a nickname. Deal with it. What are your thoughts on all this, Mo?"

"Well, Gabe," Mohinder replied, grinning at the face Gabriel pulled at this nickname, "I guess I'm not too sure."

Mohinder's grin faded and he stared at the ceiling contemplatively. "The geneticist part of me finds it fascinating and amazingly exciting, but I can't help but wonder about the ethics behind it."

"Ethics?" Gabriel queried.

"I mean, think about it. How many times do you think that had to test different versions of the serum before they found one that worked? Mistakes in that formula would almost certainly spell death for the person injected,"

"They were all inmates from Death Row," Gabriel pointed out.

"But what if they weren't?" Mohinder countered, "What if something goes wrong with any of us?"

"The chances of that happening—," Gabriel began.

"Still exist," interrupted Mohinder, "Come on, Gabe, humour me. What if?"

Gabriel thought for a long moment

.

"A life's a life. People die, we move on."

"Even if it was Micah or Molly?" Mohinder asked.

"People die," Gabriel repeated, "We move on. Death doesn't matter; it's nothing to worry about."

The watchmaker switched off the light. Mohinder fell asleep with thoughts on the meaning of life and death swirling through his mind.