Sessions: Chapter 1
I have no idea how long this story is going to be, but I'll try to keep 'em coming at a good rate.
Disclaimer: Shockingly I still don't own Heroes. I know, I can't believe it either.
"Session 22." Dr. Suresh recited out loud, as he did every day, for the tape recording. "Date: eleventh of-"
"Twenty two days already?" Sylar interrupted. "Amazing how time goes by when you're having fun." He mused sarcastically.
"You mean when you're getting nothing accomplished. I have so many other projects I could be working on in the time that I'm wasting with you. I could actually be doing some good instead of babysitting the resident psycho-" He stopped himself. He hadn't meant to go off on a tangent like that. "I'm sorry. I just, it's just that we're not making any progress and you're not even trying so there's really no point in this." Damn. That came out wrong too. He was supposed to be encouraging and helpful, not discouraging and angry. It was just that he could be spending his time on things he was actually qualified for. Why did he have to be the one conducting these sessions? Why did he have to hear about all the gruesome details? "Sorry. I didn't mean- I just have a lot on my mind." The doctor ran a hand through his dark, tousled curls.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Sylar mocked. Leaning forward as much as he could being strapped into the chair. He tilted his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows in a concerned, understanding look.
Mohinder paused for a moment and almost replied before he caught himself. That was the thing about trying to get into Sylar's head: he always knew how to turn it around. He had so much more practice.
Mohinder dismissed the question with a disapproving look like one that you would give a child trying to trick you into giving them another cookie.
He finished the date and time for the recording before raising his head to look at Sylar again.
"Shall we continue?"
"Did we ever start?" Was the smart-ass response.
Mohinder sighed and rolled his eyes. This was pointless. It would end up being another hour of quick-witted banter, each one trying to out do the other in the speed and cruelty of their jabs. He never meant to reply but he couldn't help being baited by that man. He knew exactly which buttons to push.
"I want you to take off these restraints." Sylar said, nodding towards the straps around his wrists. It was more an order than a request. Dr. Suresh failed in his attempt to stifle a laugh at this preposterous demand.
"Well I want to be at home right now having lunch with Molly, so I guess neither of us is getting what we want." He knew the man was psychotic but honestly. Thinking that would ever happen? That was just plain crazy.
"If you take these off, I'll tell you about this time when I was nine and I walked in on my parents in the shower. It was very traumatic. I believe it may be the root of all this evil inside of me." It'd started out as an innocent attempt to negotiate, really it did, but he couldn't help teasing. Even though he'd probably just screwed his chances for the day and would now most likely have to wait until tomorrow to get the shackles off. It was still worth it.
"While you're making ridiculous demands and bogus offers, is there anything else I can get you?" Mohinder sarcastically played along. He was almost at his breaking point.
"Just one actually. I want the Haitian gone as well."
"Of course you do. I'll get right on that. I just have to take care of a flying pig problem we've been having as of late and then I'll get right to you request."
"I'm being serious!" The serial killer growled, lunging at the doctor and clenching his fists. Mohinder, who had been leaning forward until this point, now leaned back in his chair so abruptly that he almost fell over. This isn't helping my case. Sylar thought to himself. Relax.
He took a deep breath and sat back in his seat, relaxing his hands. He attempted an apologetic facial expression then started speaking again, this time in his usual deep persuasive voice, keeping his temper under control.
"I would like to talk privately. How can you expect me to open up when I'm being recorded for anyone to listen to and I have so many people watching me? Where's the trust? Where's the patient-doctor confidentiality? Where's the comfortable environment that's supposed to encourage growth and sharing?" He was trying to appeal to logic.
"First off: when did the definition of 'so many', as you put it, change to mean two? And secondly…" he paused, trying to come up with a good reason why that statement didn't make sense. Would he care to share all of his deeply personal issues in that kind of setting? No. He thought. Although, I'm not a psychotic serial killer. He looked at the pleading eyes of the man sitting in front of him. Or a saint. We've all made mistakes. A nagging voice in his head reminded him. He tried to ignore it.
"Secondly, he barely speaks," he gestured towards the Haitian, "who would he tell?" Okay so it wasn't the strongest argument but at least it was something.
"That's not the point. How many people would you want listening to your life story?" Good point; well made. If Mohinder hadn't known better he would've thought the man was reading his mind. But no. That was one power he didn't need. He always had an uncanny ability to read people, even in times like this where he didn't have use of his heightened senses.
"How about I offer a compromise? The tape recording will be for personally dictation purposes only, and no restraints, but the Haitian stays?" That seemed fair to the doctor. It was the safest choice at least. Without his powers and physically weakened by the new drugs the Haitian could easily overpower Sylar if things got out of hand.
"Restraints, no Haitian. I won't talk if he's in the room." He knew that he would get his way in the end, he just had to relinquish a bit and let Mohinder think he was in charge. He'd give into the recording and even the restraints. For the moment.
It suddenly struck Mohinder how childlike Sylar was. Short-tempered and sneaky, pouting and throwing tantrums when he didn't get his way, but still retaining an insecure innocence hidden behind it all. Even if it could only be glimpsed on very rare occasions.
"How am I supposed to know that you won't just try to kill me once no one else is in the room?" Sylar had to stop himself from saying that there would be no trying if he'd wanted to kill him.
"Think about it. How many times have we been alone together?" Sylar paused for a second, giving the doctor, and himself, a moment to remember all the time they'd spent together. "Don't you think you'd be dead by now if that's what I wanted?" Mohinder knew that this was true. There had been so many instances where he'd let his guard down with that man, so many opportunities that he could have easily taken advantage of. And yet, here he was alive and well, and even though not being killed wasn't exactly a reason for implicit trust, for some reason he did find himself believing that Sylar didn't want him dead. He hoped it wasn't just wishful thinking.
"Yes well, I'll see what I can do. I'm not making any promises, and if I concede and you continue to be belligerent-"
"I won't." Sylar quickly interrupted. He let a little smile escape his lips before he caught himself and regained control. But it was too late, Mohinder had seen it. Maybe this isn't such a waste of time after all. He thought, smiling back briefly.
