Peter’s Angels
Title: Peter’s Angels
Author: Madelyn
Fandom: Heroes. Characters: Sylar, Mohinder. Rating: PG.
Notes: Written for the picfor1000 challenge. This story stands-alone, but writing it made me do a considerable amount of mental worldbuilding. There’s always a chance that will appear as a mini-series soon, because frankly, it’s a freakily interesting world.
Thanks to icalynn for the beta and cosmic for the preread! Sorry for the title. eleveninches said to do it.
Summary: Gray skies are going to clear up.
Sylar had developed an appreciation for the box. Picture after picture of Mohinder beaming in some random corner of the globe, with some unknown person, but always with the sun behind him, haloing his body. Akin to the old leading lipstick indicator, noticing it had been moved around was an excellent barometer for when Mohinder would slip into one of his more bitter, fatalistic moods.
Tonight, he was too tired to indulge Mohinder’s mood. The “Smile! You’re in Florida!” poster he’d tacked up on the wall had started to curl; Sylar pressed the wall gum behind it impatiently, straightening it.
Like so much with he and Doctor Suresh, these were rituals of the past. Both of them were struggling to cling to some semblance of normalcy, the status quo, when so little else was predictable.
“Going to bed?” Mohinder asked quietly from his bedroom’s doorway as Sylar moved past.
“Yeah,” Sylar said, holding up his arm gingerly. “Going to go sleep this off.”
“I’ll go get the kit,” Mohinder said, already disappearing.
“It’s not necessary, didn’t even cut deep,” Sylar said, grasping the wall and peering around it as Mohinder bent down by the sink and rummaged for the first aid kit.
“Go to your room, I’ll be there momentarily,” Mohinder said, voice muffled as he knelt on the tiles.
Sylar shrugged, knowing better than to argue. He stepped into his bedroom and started peeling off his clothes, wincing as the half-dried blood stuck to his skin. He didn’t want to bother with a shower, so he tugged on a pair of sweatpants and sat down on the bed.
Mohinder entered, ripping a piece of bandage with his teeth. Sylar raised an eyebrow. “Are we that destitute?”
“The scissors have disappeared,” Mohinder replied. “It’ll do the job.”
Sylar sat patiently as Mohinder’s experienced hands deftly cleaned up his arm. Mohinder patted the bandage, almost absently, sitting next to Sylar.
“I got an e-mail from Peter today,” Mohinder said, looking everywhere but at Sylar, who had frozen in place.
“You’re certain it wasn’t traced?” Sylar asked, amazed at how level his tone was, considering the sudden dryness in his throat.
“No, Peter was careful. He- he asked us for another year.”
Sylar exhaled, placing his head on the pillow. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“I- I said yes.”
Sylar shut his eyes. “For both of us?”
“Of course not! But if you don’t want to continue, I’m sure Peter can send someone else.”
Anyone else, Sylar heard underneath. He snorted into his pillow. “Right. And you’ll be dead inside a month.” The cults had been growing in strength lately, and Mohinder’s perseverance in asking weird questions of stupid people hadn’t gotten any better over time.
“I won’t be your problem any longer,” Mohinder said, finally rising. “Do what you want - you always have anyway.”
“Not always,” Sylar muttered under his breath as Mohinder shut off the light and closed the door behind him.
***
“It’ll be electroshock girl,” Sylar said conversationally, settling in at the table.
“Perhaps,” Mohinder acknowledged. “Elle’s built a formidable reputation.”
“She’d have to have, to get you,” Sylar said, levitating the knife to butter his toast.
Mohinder rubbed at his nose. “When will you have the new sample?”
Sylar grinned. “This afternoon. I’ve been following her sister’s heartbeat all night; she made a call to her this morning. I’ll just follow it on over.”
Mohinder returned his smile wanly. Sylar realized he’d been chewing for a full minute, but hadn’t managed to swallow.
“Tell him I’m in for another year,” he said, forcing it down.
Mohinder blinked up at him. “What?”
Sylar smirked. “Unless, you’re that eager for the tiny blonde one-”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re the most effective person we have. Outside Peter, of course,” he said.
Sylar rolled his eyes.
“You only promised us a year,” Mohinder said. “Why would you stick around for more?”
“I’m still entertained,” Sylar told him. “I mean, it’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel-”
“Do better,” Mohinder warned.
“I’m invested in you,” Sylar said, voice clipped. “That little twit would mess something up, and ruin all these months; all the progress we’ve made. I’m seeing this through. Better?” he mimicked.
“More plausible, at least,” Mohinder said. He turned around and strode over to the window, staring at the perpetually gray morning, cupping his hands around a mug.
“What, the poster’s not doing it for you?” Sylar said, gesturing vaguely at the wall.
Mohinder stared for a moment, then sank down on the window seat, laughing helplessly.
“I try to think back to what it felt like to walk outside on a sunny day. How it felt on my face, on my hands. It’s getting harder to remember.”
Sylar sat beside him. “Stop looking through that stupid box. If you do it again, I’ll burn it.”
Mohinder just pressed his hands over his eyes, saying nothing. Sylar bit his lip and leaned over, pressing his hand lightly into Mohinder’s curls, finally reaching skin. He concentrated; thinking about the last walk he himself had taken in New York, so many months ago, and taken for granted.
He felt Mohinder relax beneath his hand and kept projecting, saying nothing.
“We’re getting close,” he whispered, hardening his grip on Mohinder’s neck. “You know that. When we find whose power this is…”
It hadn’t made sense. When the sun had been eclipsed unexpectedly over a year ago, the scientific community had been baffled.
Then there’d been one letter to media outlets everywhere.
I found out one day that I could do this. I think humanity’s time has come.
That’s how it had started, and by the end of it, everything had changed.
A year later, Mohinder still didn’t understand why Sylar had gone to Peter, and what he’d said that had made him *believe* it, but he knew they were the most effective team out there, and…
He was glad for more time with him.