Title: "The Tide of War"
Author: monimala
Fandom: Heroes
Rating/Classification: AC, Mohinder/Sylar, slash, adult content, adult language
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
Summary: Where is the faith? A filler ficlet for 1.20, "Five Years Gone." 700 words. Big Damn Spoilers ahoy!
When Mohinder was a young boy, both of his parents read to him. His father, The Lives of a Cell, in English, and his mother, The Mahabharata, translated from Sanskrit into Tamil. "To keep you a man of faith as your father turns you into one of science," she'd laugh, stroking his hair with tenderness before shaping the words.
The Mahabharata is a horrible story. This is what he is thinking as he stands in the President's office. It is a terrible, terrible story of epic betrayal, of family turning against one another. And he always remembers the tale of Karna, the warrior who ended up on the wrong side... who ended up dying at the hands of his own brother when he tried to loosen his chariot wheel from the mud.
Where is the faith in that, Amma, he wonders, thinking that he, too, is on the wrong side. Where is the faith?
He jumps when Nathan's voice shatters his contemplation.
"Professor, I didn't mean to keep you waiting."
He jumps and turns.
**
The Secret Service always escorts the professor in, leaves him standing in the Oval Office just long enough for him to squirm. He loves these moments... those precious minutes ticking away as Mohinder feels the thickness of the air, the wrongness of it all, but can't give it a name. It's been five years and he still can't give it a name, still can't slot it into one of his categories or map its code. His is a brilliant mind... and a useless one, on two levels. Sylar is almost disappointed that Mohinder has nothing for him to swallow, nothing to give him except what he takes by force on nights like this. But he's infinitely glad that his oh-so-brilliant adviser is clueless... is so easily manipulated... that five years haven't changed that at all.
It's delicious.
"Professor," he whispers in Petrelli's voice, as he emerges from the shadows. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."
Except they both know that he did.
"N-nathan."
Mohinder fumbles with his glasses, with his hands, his composure... and Sylar remembers the very first time. The first time he fisted his hands in those black curls and bent him over the desk that's sheltered Bushes and Clintons. Possibly even Nixon, but he hopes they would've changed the furniture at some point between then and now. Mohinder faced away from him, eyes closed tightly shut because he's such a good little American now and he does what his leader asks... so when Sylar let Nathan Petrelli drop away, it was his own little secret. He bit down, marked Mohinder's smooth brown shoulder, and came inside him with his own face, his own cock, his own satisfied smile.
Just as he's done every time since then.
There are tired circles under Mohinder's eyes. Another sleepless night. Another mystery unsolved. Sylar can't help himself, he tastes the uncertainty on those pursed, full lips. He tastes the defeat. It's beautiful. It belongs to him. Like this entire world.
Sylar fucks him slowly, torturing him with an even, steady pace... just long enough for him to squirm. To gasp out, "Please." He loves these moments... those precious minutes ticking away as Mohinder feels the thickness of the air, the wrongness of it all, but can't give it a name.
The name is his. The name is Sylar.
The day Mohinder speaks it is the day the he dies.
**
The door gives way just as Nakamura and his friend vanish. He does not know how he held it at all considering he is, above all, powerless. He stumbles back, skids across the floor from the force of it flying open. The blasts of energy echoing from the hall are bright, blinding, and when Parkman's bullet catches him in the chest, it is nothing... no pain in comparison to Peter's stricken expression... to the sudden lull in battle... to the man turning to face him who is not Nathan. Who was never Nathan Petrelli at all.
He gasps, "Sylar." He tastes the blood just moments before he chokes on it.
The wheel is stuck. Mohinder cannot move it.
--end--
May 1, 2007.