Title: Step Mother
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder, Mohinder/Mira
Rating: PG-13
Summary: During a trip to India, Sylar discovers that there may be a new addition to Mohinder's family.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Implied Mpreg, AU, implied Slash, Angst

Sylar didn't normally knock. Usually he would just walk right in, whether he was invited or not, but there were rules now and he was in the middle of violating one of the biggest ones: no unexpected visits. He hoped that Mohinder would make an exception -- after all, this was a very special occasion -- and surely the fact that he had taken the trouble to knock and wait for someone to open the door counted for something.

He gave the door another quick rap, irritated that it hadn't been answered the first time, before continuing to wait. After a while he heard the bolt ease out of the lock and the knob twist. The door swung open to reveal a young girl of about twelve. Her face went from cheerful politeness, to stunned horror as if in this exact moment all her nightmares were coming true. Chances were that that was the exact case.

Sylar hadn't seen Molly in years -- Mohinder had always made sure to keep the two apart whenever Sylar flew to India to see their son -- and the ex-serial killer could definitely see that she had changed a great deal. She was several inches taller, but her hair seemed to be shorter and pulled back instead of framing her face. She was caught somewhere in one of the awkward stages of puberty -- all long limbs and knobby knees -- and the way her gaze quickly shifter from terror to defiant irritation, Sylar could tell that she was already developing the typical teenage attitude.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. An attempt at intimidation. Cute. "You know the rules. You're not supposed to come here unless Mohinder says it's okay."

"I know, brat," Sylar said calmly, "but it's my son's birthday and I wanted to come, so tell Mohinder I'm here."

"One sec," Molly said with sarcastic politeness before slamming the door in his face.

Sylar heard the bolt slide back into place and knew right away that the brat wasn't going to tell Mohinder anything. He waited for a few minutes to pass before reaching out with his telekinesis to undo the solid metal barring him from entry. He'd tried, he'd knocked, he'd asked to come in, but now he was just going to have to do things his way.

He eased the door open and stepped inside. Mohinder's current home was... nice. It was much larger than his Brooklyn apartment and definitely brighter, but it lacked the familiar touch, the memories that seemed to ooze out of every square inch and for that -- in spite of all its modern furnishings and cheerful pictures -- it felt empty.

The serial killer was instantly hit by the sound of soft music wafting towards him from the other room and two voices -- two adult voices -- muttering quietly to each other. He knew Mohinder wasn't expecting him, yet the knowledge that the man was entertaining someone still managed to offend him. He stepped lightly, turning a corner and walking into the living room. In there, he saw Mohinder sitting on a couch with some woman. Their backs were turned towards him, but as Mohinder slowly turned his head to face his companion, Sylar could see that the geneticist had a broad smile playing across his dark features. The serial killer felt his stomach tighten, twist, as the woman leaned over and said something that made Mohinder burst into jubilant laughter.

The sight was repugnant to say the least. Standing by and staring at Mohinder, watching him longue comfortably with some home wrecking whore made his insides feel as if they had been set on fire. He cleared his throat (much louder than was necessary), gaining their attention and causing the two to jerk away from each other.

Mohinder twisted in his seat. His eyes widened and his jaw fell open when he met Sylar's gaze. "Whuh... what are you doing here?" Mohinder stammered, too shocked to even bother to stand.

The woman sitting next to him frowned, her gaze darting back and forth between the two men. Sylar could see now that she was rather pretty -- thick, wavy black hair, smoldering brown eyes, clear caramel skin -- if you went for that sort of thing.

"It's Manu's birthday," he said simply, pointedly ignoring the woman. "I came to visit."

The Indian man frowned, his eyes blazing and his jaw tightening in a way that told Sylar he had just made a big mistake. Yet he managed to smooth away the anger and shift his features into a mask of calmness as he turned towards the confused woman beside him. "Mira, would you excuse us for a moment?"

His words only caused the woman's -- Mira's -- confusion to increase. "What's going on?" she asked quietly, clutching his arm worriedly. "Who is he?"

"Just a moment," Mohinder answered instead, giving her a peck on the cheek before gently detangling her hand from him.

Sylar suddenly felt as if his stomach was holding nothing but smoke and ash as Mohinder marched toward him, a furious gleam in his eyes. The Indian quickly grasped Sylar's shoulder, spinning him around and ushering him back out the door. Once they were outside, Mohinder slammed the door shut behind him, glowering at Sylar as if he were a stain on a new carpet.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, or rather growled.

"I told you, I'm visiting our son on his birthday," he answered tersely. "And who the hell is she?"

Mohinder sighed, pushing past his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He wore his glasses more frequently now and Sylar assumed it was because slipping on a pair of glasses was much quicker than putting on contact lenses, and since the geneticist was raising two children mainly by himself, he needed all the time he could squeeze out. Yet the beard the man was sporting was new and Sylar assumed from the facial hair's trimmed appearance it was more for style as opposed to practicality.

"She's not important," the geneticist sighed and Sylar couldn't agree more. "What's important is how incredibly inappropriate this is! I told you right from the start that you were never supposed to come here without my approval!"

"Manu's my son!" Sylar snapped. "I should be able to see my child whenever I want."

"That may be all well and good for you, but Manu lives with me in my house with my adopted daughter whose parents you viciously murdered!"

"But this is different," he pointed out. "It's his third birthday! This is the age when he'll start building lasting memories! I need to be here for this, to be as present in his life as possible."

Mohinder groaned, pushing his hair out of his face. "Be that as it may, you simply cannot be here. We have plans. My mother is throwing Manu a party tomorrow and my entire family is going to be there!"

"So I'll tag along," Sylar shrugged. "You can just tell everyone that I'm someone you met in America. That technically wouldn't be a lie."

The geneticist frowned, balling his hands into fists at his side. "It's not about lying," Mohinder seethed. "You do realize that my family is Chandra's family? The family of the man you killed? Do you really want to spend an evening making small talk with the family of one of your victims?"

The reformed killer gave another indifferent shrug and he could tell that the gesture was starting to get under Mohinder s skin. "Why not? I spend nights at Petrelli's apartment listening to him go on and on about his daughter. Did you know that he's pregnant? Again!"

For a moment, the Indian looked torn between outrage and confusion, but after a minute of letting his mouth snap open and closed like a fish out of water, he simply threw his arms up in defeat. "Fine, do as you please," he sighed, "but this is the absolute last time this is happening and you will not say a word to my mother. It's bad enough I'm letting you into her home, the last thing she needs is to deal with you."

"Alright," Sylar agreed. "Now where's Manu? I want to see him."

"He's sleeping," Mohinder said simply. "I put him down for a nap a little while ago."

"Well, then can I at least come inside until he wakes up?"

Mohinder didn't answer. He merely rolled his eyes and turned towards the door. When he didn't slam it in his face, Sylar decided that he would be allowed in. He followed Mohinder as he walked briskly towards the kitchen where Mira was waiting.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, a concerned look on her soft features.

"No, everything's fine," Mohinder lied, placing a hand at Mira's side. It was a small gesture, but a clear sign to Sylar that Mohinder wanted him to stay away from the woman. "We were just talking. This is... an acquaintance of mine from America."

Mira smiled as understanding quickly settled upon her. "Oh," she said slowly, turning her gaze towards Sylar. "Of course. You must be Peter."

Sylar felt his blood boil and his jaw tighten. If he didn't already hate the woman, he absolutely loathed her now.

"No dear," Mohinder corrected gently. "Peter's the one with dark brown hair and kind eyes."

"Oh," Mira laughed, seeing her error. "Then this is Matt Parkman?"

"Obviously I'm someone Mohinder has neglected to mention," Sylar cut in, his voice barely able to hide his contempt. "I'm Gabriel Gray."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gabriel," she said pleasantly. They shook hands and Sylar longed to crush her boney fingers in his palm. "I'm Mira Shenoy, Mohinder's fiancee."

The ex-serial killer felt his heart stop for a good minute as his entire field of view was suddenly consumed by red. His body was practically humming with hate as he was overcome by too many emotions to name. To his surprise, Sylar actually found himself laughing as his dark eyes left Mira's startled gaze to settle on the guilty look on Mohinder's face. "Fiancee?" he repeated, because the word was just too startling not to be repeated. "Well, I'm... surprised. How long have you two been engaged."

Mira gave an awkward chuckled, brushing her long black hair behind her ear, flashing her engagement ring as she did so. "About three months."

The ex-killer's ears perked up at the announcement. It suddenly hit him then that he and Mohinder had slept together less than two months ago on Christmas Eve. It was an amusing and humiliating thought. He'd been used. Instead of receiving something beautiful that had been long denied for him, he'd been an unknowing participant in an affair. He felt dirty, guilty; yet knowing that Mohinder had went out of his way to sleep with him when there was someone else in his life spoke volumes. Surely the geneticist still had some sort of feelings for him then.

They were all fortunate that Manu had decided then to appear, toddling into the kitchen completely unaware of the tension filling the air. "Papa!" he cheered, bounding over to him and wrapping his chubby little arms around Sylar's leg.

The American smiled, bending down to scoop his child up in his arms. He was worth the twenty hour flight and the awkward tension. "Hello, Angel," Sylar cooed, kissing Manu's cheek. "Did you miss me?"

Manu gave an enthusiastic nod, wrapping his arms around Sylar's long neck and burying his face against his chest. The man was too distracted by the gesture to notice the confused look on Mira's face until she spoke.

"'Papa'?" she repeated, giving Mohinder a questioning gaze.

"It's a nickname," he laughed, rubbing her arm affectionately. "In America, 'Papa' is like 'Mama' here."

"What?" Sylar asked, confused himself.

"'Mama' is Tamil for 'Uncle'," Molly's voice droned from somewhere behind him. He twisted around just in time to see the girl grab an apple from the kitchen counter and then walk away. Strange.

"Mira," Mohinder began, a fond yet slightly frazzled smile gracing his lips, "could you give us a moment?"

Mira returned the smile and then left the kitchen without a sound.

Once she was gone, the geneticist turned towards him, his dark eyes filled with annoyance as he reached out to grab Manu. "Alright, you saw him. Now leave," he snapped, moving the grab the child, only to have Manu flinch away, tightening his hold on Sylar.

"No!" Manu whined, nearly crushing Sylar from the force of his grip

"Manu," Mohinder chided, his voice somewhere between gentle and frustrated. "Papa has to go. He can't stay with us."

Manu gave out another harsh "No," but this time there were tears in his eyes as he possessively gripped the fabric of Sylar's shirt and wrapped his legs around his American parent's waist. "I want Papa to stay," he sobbed, bottom lip trembling and hot tears streaking his round cheeks.

Sylar beamed. He was winning without having to put up a fight.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Mohinder snapped, not bothering to hide the venom in his voice or the blazing hate in his eyes. "You just walk in here, disrupt my life and turn my own son against me!"

"Our son," he reminded, running a soothing hand down Manu's back, "and I'm not turning anyone against you. Manu wants me to stay and I promise I won't do anything... questionable."

"Stay for dinner?" Manu put in, his voice a sweet whisper and Sylar's smile widened.

"That's a great idea," he said.

Mohinder scowled. "No. No! You can't stay here for dinner, you can't spend the night, and you certainly can't come to the party tomorrow. I won't allow it."

"But it's Manu's birthday and he wants me here," Sylar said pointedly. "Besides, we barely get to see each other." Manu giggled as Sylar adjusted him in his arms so that he was holding the toddler in front of his face. "Can Papa sleepover?" Sylar asked, doing his best impression of a baby's voice.

He could practically hear Mohinder cringe in response. "And where do you propose you stay?" Mohinder snipped, clearly losing the will to fight.

Sylar smirked, balancing Manu on his hip. "Where does Mira sleep?"

"Not here," he practically growled. "You'll sleep on the couch and stay far away from Molly."

Dinner was awkward to say the least. Mira kept attempting to make small talk with him while Sylar tried to make his hate as clear as possible without jumping across the table and pulling a knife on her. Molly kept her gaze trained on her plate, but periodically lifted them over to Mohinder, a look of disappointment in her eyes. Mohinder longed to be open with his hostility, but had to content himself with passive aggressive barbs and snide remarks in front of Manu and Mira.

Not surprisingly Manu seemed to be the only person at the table who wasn't bitter or miserable. He spent the entire meal curled up in Sylar's lap, sharing his food and babbling to him in his wonderfully accented voice.

Mira left soon after dinner and for that Sylar was thankful. Knowing that Mira and Mohinder did not live under the same roof comforted him, yet knowing that Manu may soon be calling the woman "mother" sent a cold chill through his being.

"Papa?" Manu began, tugging at Sylar's sleeve and pulling the serial killer out of his dark thoughts. "Take a baf wif me?"

Sylar gapped, confused. He didn't know how to respond to that. He had bathed Manu before, but he had never shared a tub with him. The idea seemed so... strange.

"You don't want Father to bathe you?" Mohinder asked, mock hurt in his tone as he scooped Manu into his arms, tickling the child with his beard and sending him into a fit of giggles.

"You take baths together?" Sylar blurted out. His skin tingled and his heart beat quickened ever so slightly at the image. It seemed strange to be jealous by such a thing, but he was always a bit jealous of Manu. He got to be with Mohinder, hug him, kiss him, have the man's love and attention whenever he wanted it, needed it. Sylar had nothing but the geneticist's contempt and scorn. Being jealous of a toddler, his own son at that, was definitely a new low for him.

"Only sometimes," Mohinder shrugged, handing Manu back to him. "Do you think you can give him a bath for me? I have to clean and catch up on some work."

"I-" he began, but Mohinder quickly cut him off.

"You might as well pull your weight while you're here."

He scowled, knowing that there was really no room for argument, as he cradled the toddler in his arms. "Fine, just ... where's the bathroom?"

Sylar frowned as he helped the toddler into his pajamas. It was strange being in Manu's bedroom. Every time he was there, there was something different. It didn't seem like that long ago when there was a crib in place of the tiny bed resting in the center of the room. The toys were no longer all plush and soft, but were starting to morph into hard plastic figures and electronic learning games. The bookshelf which used to be stacked with slim children's books was now dominated by thick, textbook sized novels. It was frightening, intimidating to know that in a little while Manu would be going to school, making friends, and collecting memories that Sylar would not be a part of.

Once Sylar had Manu all buttoned up, the child went over to the bookshelf and grabbed a novel, before turning back and plopping it in Sylar's hands. "Read to me?" Manu asked sweetly, his dark eyes wide and pleading.

For the second time that night Sylar found himself paling. He looked down at the book and saw that it was written in Tamil. The characters looked like nothing but playful squiggles and loops to his eyes and he was dumbfounded to realize that Manu already spoke two languages.

Of course he does! He can't just speak English! He lives in another country after all.

"Papa can't read this, Angel," he told Manu gently, handing the book back to him.

Yet Manu refused to take it. He merely stared at the novel and then Sylar, his brows furrowing in an adorable display of confusion. "Why?" he asked simply, because as far as Manu knew, anything he could do, all grownups could do and do better.

"Because it's not in English," he explained simply, pointing at the loopy golden text embroidered into the cover. "I don't read Tamil."

His frown deepened cutely and if Sylar weren't so perplexed himself he would have kissed him. "Why?"

Because your Papa's a lazy idiot, he longed to say. He's too stupid and too lazy to learn another language, your language. "Because I never learned, Manu," he sighed, putting the book back himself. "Pick another one, an English one, and I'll read it to you."

Manu did as he was told, but Sylar could tell that the toddler still didn't really understand why he had to change the books. When Manu laid the next book in his hand, Sylar was relieved -- and somewhat shocked -- to have the child hand him a worn copy of The Hobbit. He frowned, thumbing through the pages as Manu crawled into bed, making himself comfortable. He remembered reading this book as a teenager, but Manu wasn't even three yet and Mohinder was reading it to him. It seemed a bit advanced.

Well, it's not like Manu's reading it.

He pulled up a chair beside Manu's bed and flipped the book open to a marked off page.

"There," Manu said, pointing at a specific paragraph. "Start there."

For a second, Sylar wondered if Manu was reading it himself, but he pushed the thought aside. He didn't know many three year olds that could read a book like this. He began reading and every so often Manu would stop him to tell him that his Gandalf didn't sound right or ask Sylar to show him a picture or -- strange and insulting as it was -- to tell him he wasn't pronouncing a word right. He had gone through three chapters before Manu was breathing easily at his side, his arms wrapped around a stuffed tiger and his eyelids fluttering peacefully in sleep.

As if sensing what had happened, Mohinder reappeared then, a pleasant smile on his face. "He got you to read to him?" he whispered, noticing the book in Sylar's hand. "He loves that one. Begs me to read it every night."

Sylar frowned as Mohinder placed a tender kiss to Manu's cheek, running a gentle hand over the child's side. "And... you read it to him, right?"

Mohinder frowned, taking the book from Sylar's hand and putting it back on the shelf. "What do you mean?"

"Can Manu read this?" he asked, waving his hand in front of the bookshelf. "All of this?"

The geneticist laughed, leading the other man out of the bedroom. "Don't be silly! He's three years old," he said as he sent one last smile towards Manu, before flicking the lights off. "Of course he can read."

Mohinder's family was friendly enough, but Sylar didn't like them anyway. They all just seemed far too interested in Mohinder's relationship with Mira -- all of them talking about how happy they were about the engagement, how excited they were for the wedding, how wonderful it will be for Manu to have a mother -- and it completely took away from the novelty of being in a house full of Sureshes.

He sighed, shifting against the thick pillar his back was resting against and scanning the crowd for the dozenth time. None of the people here seemed to be anything special. The ones he spoke to weren't nearly as intelligent or charming as Mohinder, and all of their accents were completely different from his (which was probably the only interesting thing Sylar had discovered that day, aside from the fact that Molly now referred to Mohinder as "Dad"). He didn't have much interest in these people. They were nothing but distant relatives, aunts and uncles and cousins, they didn't matter to Mohinder or Manu, so therefore they didn't matter to him.

The only person Sylar really wanted to see was Mohinder's mother, and ironically that was the only relative he couldn't find. He saw her once, recognizing her from an old picture Chandra had shown him. She was a peaceful looking woman with long black hair rolled up into a loose hanging bun, a pleasant smile, and sad brown eyes. Mohinder seemed to be keeping her away from him, however. Whenever Mrs. Suresh would wander in his direction, Mohinder would come up from behind and steer her away.

Manu got much the same treatment, although Sylar had a feeling that it was slightly unintentional. Whenever a relative was within a foot of the toddler, they would call him over to either pinch his cheeks, take pictures, or generally just fawn over him. Not that Sylar could really blame them. Manu was quite adorable.

The American stiffened as one of Mohinder's relatives approached him. The man was an inch or two shorter than him and looked to be around the same age. He had a too friendly smile on his face and an arm wrapped around a young woman who had an equally affectionate grin placed on her features.

"You must be Mohinder's American friend," the man began, offering a hand in greeting.

"Yes. Gabriel Gray," he said quickly, because if he had one more person ask if he were either Matt Parkman or Peter Petrelli he was going to relapse.

They shook hands and the Indian man's smile widened. "It's nice to meet you Gabriel. I'm Mohinder's cousin, Ravi, and this is my wife, Amala."

"Pleased to meet you," Amala said, offering him her own hand, which he accepted with a forced smile.

"It's funny, Mohinder never mentioned you before, Gabriel," Ravi said, a slightly puzzled look on his face. He was probably the fiftieth person to make that comment and Sylar was nearly as sick of it as he was of being called "Peter." "Were you two close?"

"Yes, quite close," he answered, because that's what everyone wanted to hear, otherwise his presence at the party would just seem off.

Ravi leaned closer to him as if he were about to reveal some horrible secret. "Then... did you know her?"

Sylar frowned, cocking his head curiously, because that was a question he wasn't expecting. "Who?"

"You know, her, Manu's mother... Did you know her?"

He was blindsided by the question, but he managed to recover from his surprise fairly quick once he realized the opportunity staring him in the face. Sylar smiled. "Yes, I knew her quite well," he said pleasantly.

"Really?" Amala asked, looking just as captivated as her husband. Obviously this was a topic that was a mystery to the entire Suresh clan and as with most family secrets every single member found it incredibly fascinating. Suddenly Sylar felt powerful and in control. "Mohinder has never really spoken of her. Well, only once. To Grandmother and Grandfather. But he never gave them as much as a name. It must be a terribly painful topic for him."

Sylar nodded slowly, making sure to appear solemn and thoughtful. "Yes, losing her was very painful. He really loved her."

"What was her name?" Ravi asked

"Gabriella."

"That's quite similar to your name," Ravi pointed out obviously.

Sylar hummed, nodding his head in thoughtful agreement. "Yes, it's quite a coincidence."

Amala clucked her tongue and swatted Ravi's arm lightly. "It's probably a very popular name in America," she said, adding something else in Tamil in a very chiding tone.

"What did she look like?" Ravi asked, unaffected by his wife's nagging.

"She was quite tall, pale, with black hair and dark brown eyes. A lovely woman. Mohinder fell for her the moment they met."

Amala gave him a sad smile, placing a hand over her heart. "How sweet," she whispered.

"Yes, they were quite the couple," he continued in a remorseful tone of voice. "Nearly inseparable. Such a shame, dying in a car accident like that-"

"I thought she died in child birth," Ravi cut in.

"Dying in child birth like that," he corrected, not skipping a beat. "It was like a car accident; horrific yet impossible to turn away from." He saw the curious looks the couple gave each other, and Sylar knew then that his little slip up had cost him his credibility. It didn't matter. He was getting a bit bored of this subject anyway. "At least Manu is growing up well," he mused, hoping it would be enough to change the subject.

Amala laughed. "That's putting it mildly," she beamed. "Mohinder is doing such a fantastic job with him and young Molly. Especially considering he's doing it all by himself."

"Well, I doubt he could do much better," Ravi said pointedly. "The way Manu is and all. He's a little genius that one."

Sylar was practically beaming at their words, his chest swelling with pride. Manu was definitely his favorite subject. "Yes, he is clever-"

"No," Ravi interrupted, his eyes and face deadly serious. "He's really a genius." His eyes flicked across the crowd of relatives before landing on his desired target. "Manu!" he called. "Come here dear boy."

Manu scurried over, all bright eyes and eager smile. He stood obediently in front of Ravi, but his eyes skipped back and forth between all three adults.

Ravi smiled, scooping the child up in his arms and patting his stomach affectionately. "That's my good boy," he said before turning his gaze back to Sylar. "Go on. Say a word. He'll spell it, no trouble."

Sylar frowned, slightly baffled, but willing to play along. "Okay. Spell... 'duck.'"

"No no no," Ravi frowned, shaking his head as if frustrated. "I mean a real word." He turned his attention to Manu again. "Manu, spell... 'egregious.'"

Sylar opened his mouth to protest, because that word was far beyond the vocabulary of a middle school aged child, let alone a toddler, but Manu's voice cut him off. "E-G-R-E-G-I-O-U-S," he whispered, playing with the tip of his sleeves as he did so.

The ex-serial killer suddenly felt beyond stunned. He felt as if he were looking at a complete stranger instead of his three year old son. He had always known that the toddler was special, but this... this was beyond words.

"We have two boys ourselves," Amala said, running an affectionate hand through Manu's lush curls. "They're a bit older than Manu, but they're not nearly as gifted as him. Perhaps we should have Mohinder tutor them?"

Sylar frowned, no longer interested in the conversation. Everything felt wrong, as if the world had shifted under him and he was suddenly in a different time and place. He could barely find it in himself to look at his own son. All the man could think about was that he needed to find Mohinder.

He excused himself, not really caring if Amala or Ravi thought his abrupt departure was strange, and searched the bungalow for Mohinder.

Unfortunately for him, the Suresh home was large enough to rival the Petrelli mansion. There were too many rooms, too many people, making the search feel like seeking a needle in a haystack. It was probably why he wasn't too surprised when Mohinder found him or rather, ran into him. Their shoulders bumped with so much force that Sylar actually found himself wincing in pain and staggering in off balanced shock.

"Sorry!" Mohinder said quickly before realizing who he was speaking too. When he did, the sincere concern on his face quickly melted away into hostile annoyance. "Oh, it's just you. Never mind then."

Sylar frowned, reaching out to grab Mohinder's shoulder in his firm hands before the geneticist could manage to slip back into the sea of smiling faces. "We need to talk. Now."

Mohinder looked as if he wanted to argue, but he obviously knew that that was not the best idea at the moment. Instead, the Indian merely resigned himself to leading Sylar away from the other party guests. They ducked and weaved through the crowded garden until they were back inside, yet Mohinder didn't stop there. He took Sylar into the kitchen where they were completely alone save for an abundant supply of food and drinks and a birthday cake of impressive side.

"What do you want?" Mohinder griped, busying himself by opening and closing the cupboards. Sylar couldn't tell if he was looking for something or just being moody.

"You didn't tell me that Manu's ability has manifested," he said, getting straight to the point.

The Indian froze midway between pulling a draw open, turning to stare at him with a look that was somewhere between utter horror and confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Manu's ability," he repeated, not bothering to hide the irritation in his tone. "I can't believe I didn't notice it last night, but it makes sense. The books, the languages, the spelling, it all makes sense. He has enhanced memory doesn't he? Or is it intuitive aptitude? Or is it his brain itself? Does he have enhanced intelligence?"

Mohinder merely stared at him for a few seconds, his face completely blank, before a full belly laugh erupted from him. Now it was Sylar's turn to be confused. He just stood there, watching as Mohinder doubled over with laugher, slapping the counter tops as he continued to ridicule Sylar's obviously misguided conclusion.

"You really don't think much of our son do you?" Mohinder asked once he had regained his composure.

"What?" he said, because the geneticist's words didn't make anything clearer.

"Sylar, just because Manu is three, doesn't mean he's stupid," he explained. "Quite the opposite really. He's young and fresh. His mind is a blank slate waiting to be filled with endless information. Children at this age are filled with limitless potential. I'm merely helping him to take advantage of his gifts, giving him a head started on the other children. I read to him, I help him identify words and shapes and images. I taught him to read and he's currently learning to write. It's really no different than some of the things other toddlers could do if their parents bothered to teach them."

"Oh," he said and that's all he could think to say.

It was strange, he felt slightly... disappointed. Truth be told, he'd been waiting for Manu to develop an ability. Matt Parkman's brat had gained an ability during infancy. The Company had documented Evolved Humans whose powers have shown up before they'd even been born. Yet Manu was nearly three and... nothing. He couldn't understand why. Sylar didn't know if his own ability had developed late in life or if he had had it with him for decades and simply hadn't noticed. Furthermore, his biological father had an ability and while Mohinder's powers were synthetic his sister Shanti had a genetic marker indicating a potential for being Special. It was only logical to assume that Manu had the potential to have a power hidden somewhere inside of him.

"Well, do you know if he's going to... develop?"

Mohinder frowned as if Sylar had said something completely vile, and maybe to the geneticist he had. "I'm not experimenting on my baby," Mohinder said tersely.

"I'm not-"

"And I don't really care if he does develop anything!" he barked, effectively cutting Sylar off. "He's special just the way he is. He doesn't need an ability to prove himself to me or anyone else! In fact, he's safer this way, without a power."

Sylar frowned, not missing the venom in Mohinder's tone. "What are you trying to say? Do you think I'd-"

"I think this whole 'reformed' facade is going to crumble away any day now," Mohinder seethed. "I think you're full of it. I think that these past few years have been a fluke and sooner or later something's going to make you snap and set you back on your old ways."

"A fluke?" Now it was Sylar's turn to shout, because Mohinder was pushing all the wrong buttons. The geneticist had always been so quick to assume, so happy to think the worst of him, but calling everything he worked towards for the past three years... Three years of fighting back the urges, pushing aside the dark thoughts, resisting the voices in his head telling him to kill, to maim, to steal those tempting abilities from the weak and undeserving cowards who possessed them. "You think this was all a 'fluke'! Do you know how hard I worked to keep myself in control? To resist the urge to kill again? It's torture Mohinder, it's painful, but it's something I fight with everyday. Do you know why? For you! For Manu! Because I love you both and I don't want to disappoint you."

"That doesn't mean anything," Mohinder told him, his dark eyes red and serious behind the gleam of glasses. "You've loved before, you've cared about people before, you've had a family before, and... and none of those things made a difference. You always fell back to your old ways. I'm just waiting for it to happen again so I can finally take Manu away."

"I'd never hurt him. I love him more than anything, maybe even more than you and certainly more than me. He's my baby too, even if you want to forget that."

"So are you honestly telling me that even if he develops an ability -- one that you don't have, one that could be so powerful it could rival your own -- you still wouldn't even think about killing him?"

Sylar opened his mouth, but soon found himself snapping it shut. He'd never thought about it before. Manu had always just been a baby in his eyes, an innocent creature. He never would have imagined the child's gift to be anything destructive, just beautiful. Yet when Mohinder put it in those terms...

The kitchen door squeaked open. Sylar spun around and found Mira standing there, a worried look on her face as her eyes darted back and forth between the two men. "Is everything alright?" she asked. "I thought I heard shouting."

Sylar felt his eyes drop and his head bow as Mohinder brushed past him, going to stand by Mira's side. "Nothing's wrong," Mohinder assured her. "Gabriel and I were just talking."

Mrs. Suresh appeared then, her face calm, peaceful as she glanced at the "happy couple" standing side by side in the doorway. "Excuse me children," she teased, a knowing smile on her features, "but it's time to cut the cake. Mohinder, could you find my dear grandson while I get the cake?"

"I'll get it Mother," Mohinder cut in, because the cake was right behind Sylar.

Mrs. Suresh frowned at what she saw as her son coddling her, but nodded her consent before disappearing through the door way. Mohinder came towards him and Sylar actually found himself stepping aside as the Indian grabbed the cake and made for the door. Mohinder paused when Mira made no indication to move and that caught Sylar's attention as well.

"Mira? Are you coming?" he asked.

She smiled, but shook her head. "I'll be out in a minute."

Mohinder stood there for a moment, reluctant to leave the two alone. The Indian sent a worried glance Sylar's way, silently pleading for him to be on his best behavior. Sylar flashed him a weak smile, crossing his heart, all while keeping his fingers firmly crossed behind his back. He was fortunate that Mohinder only saw the first two gestures before leaving the kitchen. The door swung close, and suddenly Sylar found himself alone with the woman who'd stolen the love of his life away from him.

"All partied out?" Sylar asked, hoping to find out just what it was Mira wanted, because it was obvious she wanted something.

She gave a soft laugh, nodding her head. "I think if one more person asks me 'when's the wedding' I might scream." He let out a friendly chuckle, because that's also what she wanted. A short silence stretched out between the two, before Mira's eyes lifted back in his direction. "And you?" she began quietly. "Not enjoying the party?"

He shrugged. "I don't know anyone here besides Mohinder and his kids." It was slight, but since his sharp eyes were studying her, Sylar caught the way Mira cringed at the word "kids." He had her. "They're a sweet bunch, aren't they?"

"Yes. Sweet," she agreed and if anyone else were listening, they probably wouldn't have heard the bored weariness in her tone. He could practically hear the unspoken for children swimming around in her head and suddenly Sylar found himself privy to the chink in Mira's armor; she didn't like children.

"It's going to be interesting, huh?" he continued, because he was enjoying the way she was practically squirming under the barrage of questions. "Raising two kids that aren't yours? Especially when one is going through puberty!"

Mira let out a faint whimper, her skin paling slightly at the thought. She wasn't a nurturer. She wasn't a housewife. She wanted Mohinder, but these two children came with him. He couldn't blame her too much, the trouble with Mohinder was that he always made himself a package deal -- if it wasn't his emotional burdens then it was his family -- yet he honestly couldn't imagine why she wouldn't want Manu.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, her voice a troubled whisper as she leaned closer to him. Sylar had to keep himself from jumping for joy, and instead gave a calm, curious nod. "Molly and Manu... well, they are good children, but... when Mohinder and I began dating -- years before they were born -- well, we both agreed that we were people that didn't want children. Then, he comes back from America with two!"

He hummed, nodding along, but made no noise to stop her. He wanted to hear this.

"I know that some people would probably think I'm a bit selfish, but I just want Mohinder, that's all. Yet, you have no idea how hard it is to date a man with children! I can't sleepover because he doesn't want them to see, we can't stay out too late because he doesn't want to keep the babysitter waiting, and there are just so many things that I cannot say because 'the children are around.' Sometimes I just want to take him away, have him give the children to his mother so we can live our own lives, but that would be horrible. And the children... they're not so bad... not all the time.

"Molly, when I met her, she was so sweet -- all crayon drawings and smiles -- but now she's become so moody and bitter and she just doesn't want to talk to anyone. I know, it's the hormones, but it's a lot to put up with.

"And then there's Manu." Sylar felt his whole body go ridged, his hands digging into his palms, as he squared his jaw and swallowed his protests. "I know he's just a baby, but he's something of a brat himself. He's always crawling in Mohinder's lap and trying to keep his attention on him. Mohinder and I can just be talking and then, out of nowhere Manu will just start screaming like someone's trying to kill him, just because he wants Mohinder to play with him!"

It's probably because Manu senses that you're an evil whore, he longed to say, but swallowed the words. He wanted to hear more. Revenge would come later.

"And does Mohinder punish him? No! Never! He can break things, throw his food, pull my hair, but Mohinder never so much as raises his voice to him! It's ridiculous."

"He seems quite sweet to me," he said defensively, but Mira barely noticed. She was far too busy venting.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at his words. "Yes, sweet, when you're paying attention to him. Try ignoring him, for just a second, or even saying 'no' to him. He'll throw such a tantrum! Sometimes I miss when he was a baby, but he was just as bad then, too. Needy things babies. If you don't tend to their every whim they make the biggest fuss." She sighed, shaking her head wearily. "I don't know where he gets this clingy behavior from. Maybe his mother. Have you ever met her?"

"Yes," he seethed between gritted teeth.

"Really? Who is she?"

"Mohinder's the mother, you stupid cow!" he spat.

Mira's eyes widened, her jaw hung open, and he truly enjoyed the look of complete horror on her face as she cringed away from him. It had been sometime since someone had been that frightened of him, and it felt so refreshing to experience that fear again.

"Whuh... what are you...?" she stammered, taking several shaky steps backward as her brain scrambled to process what he had just said.

There was a flair of telekinetic energy, a short burst that sent Mira stumbling backwards and made the room shake ever so slightly. That slight loss of control was enough to remind him to calm down, to reign his abilities in before he completely flew off the handle and did something he couldn't take back. Killing Mira was out of the question, but scaring her straight was too tempting to resist.

"I'm Manu's father," he hissed, mindful to keep his voice low since one of the many relatives could wander into the kitchen at any time. "His biological father, and Mohinder... Mohinder is mine. He loves me, he just won't admit it yet."

"That's-"

"We made love last December," Sylar cut in, not wanting to hear a single word from the Indian woman. "If you don't believe me, ask him about it, but I swear to all that is sacred, if you don't stay far away from my family-"

The sound of the kitchen door swinging open did not go unnoticed. Sylar was mindful to not only school his features, but to calmly step away from Mira -- who was now several shades paler and looked as if she were going to collapse from pure terror -- as Mrs. Suresh reappeared.

"Oh, there you are Mira," she greeted, slightly startled to see the younger woman still standing in the kitchen. "We've been waiting for you. Could you grab some extra plates and join us on the patio?"

Mira blinked, her eyes drifting downward. She opened her mouth, but no words came out so she merely nodded her consent.

Mrs. Suresh turned to him and said... something, but Sylar wasn't sure. Her words sounded so hollow and far off in his ears. He had been waiting for this moment, had been looking forward to meeting Mohinder's mother, but he was too troubled to fully take advantage of the opportunity. His mind was churning, reeling, as he began to fully grasp what he had just done. He merely smiled at the older woman and gave her a short nod. That seemed to satisfy her as she slipped out of the room.

Sylar bit his lip, his hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter so tightly that he felt the circulation cut off as his fingers turned white. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Mira trembling as she gathered the disposable plates in her hands and hurried out of the kitchen. Sylar didn't follow; he couldn't find it in himself to leave the kitchen for several minutes. When he did, he couldn't help feeling as if he had destroyed everything that he had worked so hard to make for himself with the sweep of his hand.

It was night time when the party was over. The guests piled out of the bungalow at a leisurely pace, each of them making sure to give Manu one last kiss on the cheek or pat on the head. Sylar watched it all from a distance. A wiser man would have left a long time ago. He knew he should have gotten out the moment Mira had left the kitchen, but he didn't. For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to go. It was as if he were obligated to stay and watch everything come apart.

He hung back during the rest of the festivities, but he kept a cautious eye out for Mohinder and Mira. Yet he didn't see them, either of them, and when the night was over he took his chances and left. Sylar hadn't gotten very far before a strong, firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, squeezing it dangerously tight. He knew without looking that it was Mohinder.

"What did you do?" the man seethed.

Sylar cringed at his tone, but turned around to face him despite the warning in his head. When he looked at the smaller man, he could see the fire burning in his eyes. The way his jaw tightened and his entire body trembled with anger actually made Sylar feel nervous.

Years ago, he would have told Mohinder exactly what he had done -- bluntly, proudly -- and probably would have smiled while he said it, but he wasn't that person anymore. Instead of feeling justified and secure, he felt guilty, petty, small.

"I told her the truth," he said finally. "I told her what we did-"

"Why!" Mohinder snapped. He looked ready to punch him. Maybe he was. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you know it wasn't right."

"Bullshit!" he barked. "You don't care about right and wrong. You don't care about other people's feelings!"

He frowned, the fire slowly building up inside of him at the reminded of just why he had said what he had. "No," he cut in. "You and her. That wasn't right. You two aren't meant to be together. She's all wrong for you! You should have heard the horrible things she said."

"Is that why you threatened her? Made up stories about how I was in love with you? I was happy Sylar! Is that 'horrible' to you, too?"

His mouth flew open and his stomach tightened. He couldn't say anything, because suddenly he felt sick. Sylar had to admit that when he had walked in on Mohinder and Mira just the other day they had looked happy together. He had never seen Mohinder happy. Even the justification that it was all a lie couldn't bring his voice back. He couldn't even mutter a sheepish "I'm sorry." Maybe he didn't deserve to.

Mohinder's frown deepened, displeased by his silence and frustrated by everything that had happened. "I can't do this anymore," he told him, his voice angry and weary all at once. "I can't deal with you systematically ruining my life anymore! It's over. I tried, but... no more. I want you to stay away from me and my family."

That caused a reaction from him. His eyes practically flew open as he grabbed the other man's arm in his hand, squeezing it desperately. "You can't do that! You can't keep my son away from me. I'm his father, I have my rights."

The Indian huffed, yanking his arm out of his grasp. "We're not a divorced couple!" he spat. "You don't have any rights. Legally you don't even exist."

"Mohinder, please," he whispered, his stomach tightening in desperation. He couldn't let it end this way. He couldn't have his son ripped away from him because of one stupid mistake. "Think about Manu. What are you going to tell him?"

The geneticist's jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, looking for any excuse to rip him apart. "I am thinking about Manu. It was a mistake to ever let you see him... I realize that now, and I'm going to set things right. If you ever try to see him again, I'll kill you."

"Mohinder." He reached out to touch him, desperate to make the man see reason, but Mohinder wouldn't bend.

The punch came in the blink of an eye. His jaw and neck snapped like a dry twig. He couldn't have been out for very long, but it was long enough. By the time Sylar regained consciousness, Mohinder was gone. Manu was gone. The life he had rebuilt was gone.