Summary: A tense morning leads to a lot more than Mohinder may be able to handle. [Variation on 2x11 that takes a different direction. SylarxMohinder, Concerned!MattxMohinder
Desclaimer: I in no way own Heroes. I just like to play with its characters sometimes
Spoilers: Up to 2x10 and some of 2x11
Warnings: Character death (not Mohinder, Matt, Molly or Sylar)
A/n: I hope that this is enjoyed.
Chapter 1: Behind the Door
A Mexican woman, beautiful, smiled at him in innocence as she crossed the small kitchen with her hands full of plates, her eyes confused as to why he would not enter into a conversation. Sylar was looking on, that shark smile tilting his lips. A gun pressed to Mohinder's side, the once cool metal warming from continual contact with his bodily warmth. It was hidden by the closeness in which Sylar sat, and by the table whose cloth fell in rumples that would block the gleam of metal from the woman's sight.
The aroma of the fresh meal pushed in front of him made Mohinder's stomach clench in warning. His mind was on the closed door to his little girl's room, not the woman who looked at him so expectantly. The anxiety rolling in his stomach made it impossible to even conceive of eating. Nor would he dine at the same table as his father's murderer.
"You have a new roommate - other than the stray, I mean." Matt. The detective. Mohinder looked at Sylar, trying to see past Zane. Every move, smirk, word - gentle Zane, murderer Sylar. He had to learn to separate them. Those devil eyes were sharp against Mohinder's every move, and Mohinder's repressed need to see Molly trembled through muscles unable to give in. This was how Bennet had felt, a guilty part of Mohinder's mind taunted, when faced with those who desired to steal his little girl.
"There were some pictures in the next room. The little stray and the cop look healthy. You must be getting better at playing house. Mama Suresh feeds them, I bet, after Papa Cop works hard all day and the little one plays nice with the teachers." Mohinder glowered at the man who patronized him. The watchmaker's eyes were alight with mocking laughter. "I've always liked your cooking, even your tea." The smirk at those words made Mohinder cringe. "Maya is a good cook, too. She's a very special girl. Go ahead and eat, we have all the time in the world."
A timer went off on the small stove and Maya leapt up, startling Mohinder. "I will be right back," she exclaimed, her smile now strained but still present. "That is the rest of breakfast." As she crossed the room, Sylar leaned in against Mohinder's side, the hidden gun pressing tightly to his ribcage.
"She reminded me of you," the murderer murmured. Mohinder shivered at the tone and the implications. "Maya is so full of idealistic hope and has so much faith in the people around her. She naively trusted a stranger to travel with her. Does this sound at all familiar, doctor?"
This man had betrayed him. So easy a change could have had this monster, Zane, raising Molly at his side. Would he have come home one night to the room in shambles and his little one - these were thoughts he couldn't entertain, not now.
"Do you care about the stray, Doctor Suresh? Enough to save even me?" It had always been like Sylar could read his mind. Zane had seemed impossibly intuitive. Sylar, too - even without his powers.
"Gabriel?" The woman was looking at Sylar with puzzled eyes, her brows furrowed in confusion. In her hands lay a pan filled with heavily scented sauce and diced vegetables. Sylar was leaning close at Mohinder's back, lips brushing the shell of his ear in a perversion of a kiss. The woman was watching, puzzled, those large eyes darting between the two of them.
"Now that I'm in the presence of the real thing, a cheap imitation has lost its draw. This is a little show to prove I mean my words concerning the stray," Sylar whispered now, and even as the woman's eyes widened at the kiss Sylar pressed against Mohinder's temple, the man's gun twitched from Mohinder's side and was firing its bullet between her eyes. She crumpled and fell, her lips still an 'o' of surprise.
Bennet falling. The lady in her shop, head opened - death everywhere -
Doubled over the table, Mohinder choked back the acid in his throat, his own whine in his ears. An arm, corded in strong muscle and showing no sign of deterioration from illness, wrapped around his midsection. Kisses feathered over the crown of his head from chap lips. "You see," the monster's voice murmured against his hair. "You'll want to listen, Mohinder. You'll live but the little stray might not. Will you give me your blood? Or do I wake little Molly?"
His little girl, his baby girl - who could ever harm her? A knife on the table caught his eye, sharp and unnoticed by the eyes intent upon him -
-but Molly in place of that woman - her eyes vacant, that sharp little mouth silenced. This beast could do it - but could hurt her more if he regained his powers. A power to find anyone would be tantalizing, would answer all the parasite's needs -
"You -" Mohinder's breath hitched. He couldn't look up from the table for fear of seeing the woman on the floor. The knife was a chance he wouldn't dare to take. "Promise she'll live."
"If you behave yourself I'll even let your pet detective live."
For his family. For his father, a man who had scarcely seen him, he had once been willing to end the monster's life. Now, for a cop he had just met and a little girl that he had claimed…
Hysterical laughter bubbled in his throat. He forced himself to swallow it, but the tremors would not leave him. "When did you contract this strain of the virus?"
Recent. There was no sign of muscular failure, no extended strain -but it wasn't all that recent. Despite himself he started, amazed at the man's state of health. But Za-Sylar's body had always been resilient. How else could he have survived all that he had?
"That is fortunate," Mohinder murmured, though the words were empty. "I need a needle. Something to put the blood into-"
Sylar slipped an arm beneath his and hauled him to his feet, shoving him towards his room. "I'll do the taking," Sylar growled, that sharp grin upon his lips. "So this will do the trick, Doctor Suresh?" Ever mocking. Mohinder gasped as he was shoved down onto the bed. His assailant towered over him, grinning as he fingered a needle and a bag that he had somehow procured from one of Mohinder's drawers. How long had the man been here, going through his things?
"No spinal taps today," the murderer muttered with a lilt in his voice. Mohinder felt that he should at least feel ashamed. "Hold out your arm."
For Molly. Shifting to sit, warily watching the other man, Mohinder pushed up his sleeve and extended the one quivering arm. He was fully aware that they had brooked no agreement concerning his own safety. There was no pretence at gentleness as Sylar thrust the needle into his arm. Whether a miracle or some residual vestige of the man's lost power, the man had managed to strike a vein and the blood was pulsing into its waiting bag. Mohinder watched with a clinical eye, noting when enough had been taken. There was no sign of ending, not until the bag had been filled. But then another one was taken - for luck, the monster said.
Another vein was mined, and Mohinder felt himself go cold. Sylar continued to let the blood drain, both of them watching the pulses of liquid flow into the transparent plastic. Blurry eyes saw that grin stretch over the monster's mouth, watched the needle finally withdraw from his arm. Sylar raised the weeping wounds left behind and bent down, collecting the last drops on his tongue.
"I can do the rest of this for myself, doctor. Go ahead and sleep. You'll need your strength very soon."
He couldn't sleep, not with this beastly parasite in his apartment with his little girl. But, even as his resolve strengthened, the monster sitting on the bed next to him began feeding the blood into a strongly muscled arm. Watching the warm blood flowing backwards through the tube was hypnotic. When he was pushed back onto his back, still he watched. The virus had been an old strain. Mohinder was returning life to a murderer.
The weight of his eyes was too much and he let them close as he poured over his guilt, praying to deities he never believed in that he would not wake up to his little girl's death. The tickle of his curls against his face as long fingers combed through them chased him into darkness.
A cold cloth mopped his face, leaving his skin damp in its wake. Fogged thought teased his mind, residual strains of fear pricking at him from a source that eluded his dampened mind. His name was being whispered in a voice he knew, one of comfort that something told him he had greatly needed. Why had he needed him? Matt?
A gasp fled his lips as he surged upright, Molly's name escaping him with a reign of words. Where was she? Was she okay? Sylar's face hovered in his mind with its shark's grin. The cloth fell into his lap as Matt grabbed his shoulders. He was pushed back to lie down, too dizzy to fight off. But Molly- Matt was speaking in soothing tones but he couldn't understand a word the man was saying. Again Mohinder demanded to know where Molly was, and only then did he realize the problem.
Molly and safe, these words he could place, though the others still refused to conform in his panic. English. He knew it, spoke it daily - even thought in it lately. Mohinder's dark eyes searched Matt's for signs of dishonesty. He hadn't been able to see her. What if it was a lie, what if Sylar had killed her first, then lied to him? Sylar was a liar and an actor, the best of both. What if he was still there?
"He," he struggled. "Where…"
"Gone."
The hands had yet to leave him. Again the cloth was against his
forehead, and a blanket was being pulled over his shivering body.
"There was a lady," Matt dared, voice carefully neutral. Mohinder
could see in the man's eyes that he didn't want to press this. "A
woman who was wanted for murder in Mexico. Mohinder, you've got to
breathe." Matt's voice lowered to a soft hiss to keep it from
being noticed by those milling around. "Damnit, Mohinder, calm
down. Everything is fine. Molly is sleeping off whatever it was
whoever was here gave her. You have to calm down. I can't pick up
what's wrong, your thoughts are all in Tamil."
Mohinder
closed his eyes, trying to focus like Matt asked. He could barely
process the request, he only wanted to see Molly, make sure she was
safe - safe like that woman hadn't been. That woman died by
Sylar's gun - Sylar, who should have been dead. Sylar, who was
there only a short time ago, threatening their daughter and wielding
a gun.
Matt was staring at him now, eyes horrified. Then the hands were tightening the blanket around him, and the detective was telling him to breathe both aloud and in his head. He wasn't breathing, air refused to come to his lips, fought him with every particle. People surrounded them, Mohinder noticed. All wore uniformed, and their gloved fingers were going through everything. He struggled to sit up, shoving against Matt's heavy hands. They didn't budge. Dizzy and exhausted, Mohinder strove to regain his breath before any new attempts.
"It was him," Matt muttered. The nightmare that Mohinder had thought behind him was showing its proof of existence in the stricken eyes of his roommate. "What did he want? I can't - you've got to calm down."
Yes, calm down. Who wouldn't be calm after coming face to face with the man who had murdered your father, then your only friend in a foreign country - the man who you led all unawares to new victims, and then who tortured you! Biting back all that he wanted to say, Mohinder forced himself to speak levelly. "Let me see Molly," he demanded.
"Parkman!" Matt flinched back, eyes darting from Mohinder's own to the man motioning him over.
"Just a minute, okay?" Matt murmured, and Mohiunder felt a thread of fear. One large hand smoothed over his curls. "Just breathe." A blond woman came and hovered behind them, telling Matt that she would stay there. Mohinder tried to sit up but found her just as strong in refusal. Or was he just too drained?
"What is it, sir?" Matt asked, shooting glances over his shoulder to where his new partner hovered over his roommate. The scientist was still trying to get up, something that he knew wouldn't get far.
"A letter. For your doctor."
Matt grabbed the proffered envelope, his stomach clenching at the words. The letters penned on the envelope bore his geneticist' name, bloody fingerprints smudged together at the corner. He laboured over the letter itself, slowly piecing together the words.
'I am sorry to have left so early. You looked so lovely as you slept, I hadn't the heart to wake you. Our next meeting will be much longer. I'll be sure to bring my own needles, since we always end up using yours. Greatest affection, Sylar.'
"What is going on here, Parkman?" His chief was frowning at him, but the stern expression did not belie the concern in those narrowed eyes. Matt did a cursory scan over the man's mind and found only honest concern there, and a worry over what this would mean to the office. Matt hesitated, unsure of the repercussions himself. How do you explain this, when he himself had no idea? He had known that Mohinder knew Sylar, had heard of how the persona of Zane Taylor had been taken on, but this didn't seem like the passing acquaintanceship that he had been told about. Molly was drugged but unharmed, and Mohinder, though bled, showed no real damage either. Why? It wasn't that he was upset - hell, he was more relived that he had ever felt before in his life! But why did the remorseless murderer spare those two? There could be no good reason.
"The man knew to call and ask for you by name. He knew that this was your family. I know by his signature that this is a murderer who was thought to be dead, and one who has already gunned you down. Why, then, is this letter addressed to your roommate?"
"Mohinder knew him under a different name," Matt tried, meeting his chief's eyes and holding them. "Sylar worked with him for a while."
"Driving a taxi?"
"No, on - well, he had a few other jobs. I'm not exactly sure what it was…"
"We can find out later." Matt cringed internally. That was an explanation he didn't want to be a part of. "Be thankful that both of them live. From what I've read of this case after it was closed, that in itself is rare with that man."
The man didn't know the half of it. Rubbing his face, Matt glanced back to the bed and started. Doing a quick search, Matt found Molly's door open and Mohinder leaning against the frame, long dark fingers curling around the old wood.
"Stubborn," the chief muttered, following his gaze. "The man must have quite a bit of blood. Go get him to sit down and rest before we leave, we'll finish this talk in the office." The man hesitated, frowned, then shook his head. "Bring them with you. If the suspect plans to come back like that letter states then it would be a bad idea to leave those two here alone. Unless you'd be willing to trust some of the men stay?"
"They come."
The chief looked down at the letter in Matt's hands, and the look on his face was anything but reassuring. "That man shot you, Parkman. Four times. He also murdered that little girl in there's parents. Now you tell me that your roommate was on a first name basis with the felon?" He shook his head, eyes hard. "As soon as we have those two settled somewhere safe, you and I will be having a very long talk."
Brown hair fanned out over the pillow around Molly's small face. She was in a drug induced sleep, he'd been told. Not harmful, and she should awaken any time now. Once she awoke, dizziness was an expected side affect. The medic that had been sitting beside her, monitoring her rest, was informative. He had focused on the woman's words, but now she was checking his daughter again and his own mind was traveling away. Molly's parents' murderer had been here, in this room, calling him. The monster might have stood over her - had to have, to administer the drug. Was she scared, he wondered, or had she even known? Had she awoken, sensing a dangerous presence nearby, or, since she hadn't been seeking him, had she missed and slept on unawares? He hoped that the latter was the case, and that this hadn't been yet another instance which would scar her mind. So small a child, and with so bring a smile, should not know the pains that this one did. He couldn't help but feel that he was failing her.
Mohinder jerked as a hand settled on his shoulder. Looking back, he found Matt frowning. "We're going to the precinct. I can't leave you two here after this."
"Take Molly," Mohinder urged, looking back towards their small charge. If Sylar was alive, he wouldn't be far now. "She'll be safe with you there."
"You're both coming."
"Just you and Molly," Mohinder disagreed. "It would be best if you remove yourselves from my presence for the time being."
"It's not an option," Matt corrected. Startled, Mohinder turned to face Matt and was shaken by the resolve in the larger man's usually uncertain eyes.
"He's cured, Matthew. Sylar had lost his power but I gave it back in return for Molly's life. I have no idea what he plans next, but I do not want either of you around for it."
-Fini-
A/n: I hope that this was
enjoyed.
