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Now Say Ah Part 5
Title: Now Say Ah - Part 5
Author: takhallus
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: G
Wordcount: 2161
Spoilers: Slight for season 3
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine
Sylar watched his breaths escape like little ghosts onto the icy wind as he shuddered against the alley wall. He watched a patch of yellow light above him – an apartment window. The warmth of the light made him feel like an intruder onto a world of comfort and peace. A tiny glowing portal onto the place where Mohinder felt safe – where he would undress and turn on the TV, make tea and finally slide between sheets for a restful sleep. A place he would never be invited.
This time I’m going to help you.
He believed him, but just as the words had escaped Mohinder’s lips a light had gone on in the corridor outside the lab and they had both been spooked. Suddenly the spell was broken, and Sylar’s dried tears had seemed self-indulgent. The grip Mohinder had had on his hands had seemed inappropriate. They had been wrenched apart by reality but Sylar’s ragged state of mind still longed for a gentle word or a reassurance that he would get better. Mohinder had bustled out of the room and the building, making plans to meet again the next day, but Sylar had been left behind, trapped within HQ until his passkey allowed him to leave at 8pm.
Whether it was fate, or a signal from Mohinder he didn’t know, but as Sylar had rounded the corner to walk towards his apartment he had seen the doctor hailing a cab. He had followed, and watched as Mohinder let himself in, and then scanned the building for a light being switched on. He felt happier here, looking on at the shadow of Mohinder moving across the curtains, than he had ever felt in his own so-called home. He longed to go to him, but felt paralysed.
Shivering, Sylar forced himself to dream and found an image in his head of Mohinder seeing him from the window and rushing down to greet him, ushering him inside. He pictured the inside of the apartment, the deep browns and yellows, the smell of wood and Mohinder’s cologne and the comforting chatter of his television. He felt the warmth of the heated room and the soft, squashy sofa cushions. He imagined the two of them, together, just sitting. A guest and his host. Friends, perhaps.
Sylar scoffed at himself. Even in his own dream, his own fantasy he couldn’t have Mohinder be what he wanted. He was ashamed to want it, and wouldn’t let himself entertain the idea any longer. The thoughts had been there in Bozeman, when he had been surprised at how he respected Mohinder’s opinion, and how he started to crave his attention. At first it had been attention for his ability, his specialness. Soon though, after a few hours driving and stray, wicked thoughts pushing themselves brazenly into his head, he started to want attention for himself. For his eyes and his lips. A girl had once told him they were his best features and he had looked at himself in the mirror for hours trying to work out why. He couldn’t see anything in his face. He thought he looked like a doll, with no character, no scars, no smile. Just a blank, ordinary face that you would never remember.
Mohinder had mentioned his eyes though. He had said “It would be like denying you have brown eyes”. Those words had meant more than he meant them to. Sitting in the passenger seat of Mohinder’s car he was excited that he had noticed his eyes. He had looked in the small mirror of the sun visor in front of him when Mohinder was getting gas, finally seeing himself now that the other man had pointed it out. After that he had begun to smile more and flash his eyes in what he assumed to be a flirtatious manner. On the night before they had found Dale Smither’s body Mohinder had stroked his hair. It had been the most intimate touch he had ever had. The moment had left him so weak, so powerless that it was where his fantasies of Mohinder had previously halted. If two, slender fingers smoothing the hair over his temple had incapacitated him like that he had feared what more intimacy could do. Then today, when Mohinder had held his hands, channelling his strength into him and asking for the purge of his emotions, he had felt the jolt of addiction. He wanted Mohinder more than ever, just to hold him. Just once. He felt he could take it.
Sylar had come to a decision about the next phase of his work with the doctor. Mohinder had rewarded his strength and honesty with understanding of his deadly hunger, and he had pledged help to him. It was not in Sylar’s nature to be led, and he knew that that the next step had to come from him. The next step had to be complete surrender to the reality of what had happened to him. He would fall apart, he was sure, but Mohinder would be there and so he wasn’t afraid. He also knew that if he waited until the harsh light of the morning to announce this he might change his mind. Impulsively he strode towards the door of Mohinder’s apartment building, just glancing up to see if the light was still streaming from his window.
He opened the door with a flick of his finger and searched the mailboxes within until he saw a piece of junk mail which read Mr Suresh, Apartment 5.
Mohinder itched to call Sylar. He felt guilty at leaving him when they had finally made a connection but something had driven him away from the intimacy of their discussion, which had come all too naturally and reminded him of times that had been better but were somehow worse. The look in Sylar’s eyes when he had held his shaking hands had been too much for him. He had seen that look before, when cheap wine and a connection only galvanised by fear had led Mohinder to almost kiss him. At the last second he had simply tousled his hair, but Za….Sylar’s eyes had shown such emotion you would never know that had never been lovers. They had never spoken of that moment since Bozeman, but it encroached on Mohinder’s memory on a regular basis. Seeing Sylar that way, so unsure and needful, it was almost as if Mohinder had Zane back for a moment.
When the knock came, Mohinder knew instinctively who it was. He paused, staring at the television which was muted but still flashing with some news programme. He knew also that he must answer, but couldn’t script what was going to happen. He didn’t have the safety of the Company, nor the neutrality. After a moment he sprung up and opened the door wide. Sylar looked apologetic until Mohinder smiled and waved him in. “I thought you might come.”
“I’m sorry.” Sylar lied as he stepped out of the doorway.
“Don’t be sorry. I said I would help you and I meant it. I didn’t mean for our…meeting to be disturbed like that.” Mohinder gestured for Sylar to sit down and walked to the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”
Sylar wanted to comment about the last time Mohinder had made him tea but didn’t want to drag them back to that moment. “Yes, thank you.”
Mohinder noticed that Sylar was fidgeting on the sofa and offered to take his coat. Sylar felt strangely naked giving it away but there was kindness in Mohinder’s eyes, which made him feel guilty about the unsavoury thoughts he was having. The tea, the small talk…it was right, it was appropriate. What he wanted was not, yet he burned for him. As he saw a cup of tea in front of him he felt as if he’d been caught – like Mohinder knew what he was thinking. He felt redness in his cheeks as he thanked him, and turned his eyes to the floor.
“How do you feel?” Mohinder sat next to Sylar, forcing a closeness which neither of them were prepared for. Sylar seemed nervy and fraught and Mohinder wanted to comfort him again, but feared the implication.
“I feel better. I think I know what I have to do to…to improve.” Sylar held his cup with both hands, allowing the heat to steady his nerves. “I want to go back to the cell. I want to confront it, and then I can start to move on.”
Mohinder couldn’t hide his surprise. Returning to confront memories of such horror was not what he had had in mind when he thought of helping Sylar. He had envisaged gentle solution-focused techniques which would allow him to cope with the mental scars, not re-open old ones. “You don’t have to do this. It’s not necessary.”
“I think it is. I think I need to face it.”
Mohinder couldn’t help but be impressed with Sylar’s determination, but he felt that this idea wasn’t going to help as much as regress him to a time of helplessness.
“We can’t even be sure which cell it was, you might be putting yourself through this needlessly.”
“I know which one it is. I have to go back and face it, and I want to hear those tapes.”
“I strongly recommend you don’t do this. How can you be sure this was the cell that you were tortured in?”
Sylar quietened suddenly. “Because I saw it, and now I remember. Broxa.”
Mohinder’s curiosity was threatening to override his sense of what was right. He wanted Sylar to continue without prompting. He placed his cup on the floor deliberately and took Sylar’s from him. He saw the other man tense with uncertainty. Here they were back on the ragged edge of what they were willing to admit to each other, trying not to fall. For a while they just sat, looking at each other. The discussions were happening inside their heads, leaving the only sound their staccato breaths, matching each other and begging to be stopped by a look, or a touch.
It was Sylar, the most broken, who broke first. His voice shook as a pre-cursor to those hot tears which he felt coming. “It was just a light.”
Mohinder shook his head gently, not comprehending. “What was just a light?”
“Broxa. I wracked my brains, thinking of what I might have meant, whether it was a clue, anything which might help me to get a grip on it. Then I remembered. A logo, on the strip light above me in the cell. It was a bird, and below it was the word Broxa. It was just a light. A manufacturer’s logo on a strip light. That’s what I was shouting.”
“The bird. You mentioned birds on the tape.”
“I was just delusional like I thought, right? I was just naming things, babbling. That’s how I knew it was that cell. I went back but I couldn’t go in. I saw the light, and I knew which one it was. I thought knowing the word might help, that if I knew it…I don’t know…maybe I thought it was another safety net. But it was just a light, and so now I have to go back. I have to see it again and I have to remember.”
Sylar’s head was bowed, and the sight of it made Mohinder angry. Even after the torture, after everything, he had never given in. He had fought like an animal to remain in this life, but the weight of the torture, the heavy scars which he still bore inside were wilting him. Nervously, he lifted his hand and saw his fingers tremble as he raised them to Sylar’s temple, brushing his hair back as with the other hand he cupped his chin and lifted his head. When his eyes were brought level with Mohinder’s the look was there, and it held them both in a trance as every reason why they shouldn’t be here ran through their heads like a broken record.
As his thoughts screamed against him, Mohinder dipped his head to the side, letting his eyes close. He almost expected something to drag him forwards against his will and so didn’t move. He let his eyes flick open again and saw Sylar’s closed and wet with tears. He was simply waiting, for whatever Mohinder was willing to give. Unable to deny him this, Mohinder pressed their lips together, holding his breath.
Sylar was terrified to move, to be not kissing him. He moved a hand slowly to Mohinder’s knee and gave it the slightest touch. At this the other man increased the pressure on his lips and the dams broke, both of them kissing as though they only had this one chance. Their insistent tears mixed as they rolled down, the sounds of their lips punctuated with sobs as they surrendered, and fell into the abyss.
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And yet now in the present with the truth splayed out in all it's beauty and ugliness that uncertainty becomes a bridge they finally cross together. I think it works really well to go back and forth with the their POVs -- it's like they complete each others story without realizing it (the tossled hair that should have been a kiss...the desire for attention that made the brown eyes comment perfection).
I really like seeing how you're moving them forward by dealing with the past. Not only for what's between them but for what happened with Sylar within The Company's grips when he was first captured.
I can't wait to see where this goes!
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Lol!
But seriously, this was great. I actually got upset when it ended. It was a cliff hanger. I'm so eager to see where this goes. I lovvvvvvvvvve the emotions, the sadness, the hurt, the want to make it all better, and the acceptance. I love this fic. I love it.
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can't wait for the rest. i always squee when you update! :D