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((continued from here.))

( Sylar is out of his seat the very second Mohinder slides from his chair, moving quickly to catch the fallen scientist in his arms. He watches his slumber, reaching a hand up to gently smooth dark curls away from his forehead. )

Sorry, Mohinder. The more things change... Well. You know.

( The scientist looks so innocent, even peaceful, Sylar stares a second longer. His mouth feels dry in spite of the tea he'd had. He licks his lips, squashing the wicked impulse to kiss Mohinder in this singularity where their moralizing and history no matter mattered. But... There are some lines even Sylar wouldn't cross. Finally, carefully, he sets Mohinder down upon the carpet. How close it was to where he'd fallen after a reversal of circumstances. It felt like a lifetime ago.

He works quickly, a mix of physical exertion and telekinesis, gathering as much of Mohinder's research from his desk as possible. He's surprised to find a syringe among the usual indecipherable notes and beakers. Oh. Now this looks important. He brings that along with the laptop. Everything is bundled into the car he had waiting outside, taking up the majority of the trunk. Next, a suitcase for clothes, toiletries, even tea bags, packed with some attempt at organization but obvious impatience with the unfolded outfits. At least the toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss wound up in a ziploc bag and not just thrown in haphazardly.

Finally, Mohinder gets bundled into the backseat along with a blanket and pillow stolen from the couch. Far better than waking up duct taped to a chair with a syringe jabbed into his arm. He'd be lying if he said the thought of putting Mohinder in some kind of bondage hadn't crossed his mind (multiple times) but now wasn't the time. Despite everything he did (and still continued to do), some part of him wanted Mohinder to trust him.

It's why he'd given him a small dose, one that would wear off after an hour or so. By that point, they would already be on a long, lonely stretch of road surrounded by nature and the setting sun. )

[As Mohinder begins to wake up, his body starts to fight the sedative. It's not exactly a normal fight-or-flight response kicking in, as the drug does its work. But instead, Mohinder groans and thrashes a bit as his consciousness returns. Instincts an hour too late have him almost falling off the seat.]

Wha-?

[There's silence for a long moment as he opens his eyes and surveys his surroundings. He certainly wasn't expecting to be in the back seat of a car, tucked in with his own blanket. Still, it doesn't take long before he's kicking up a fuss. The stretch of Americana outside his window is ominous enough.]

I should've known better than to expect anything less from you! Where are you taking me? I swear, if this is all a lead-up to murdering me horribly, you could've just done so in the comfort of my own home.

[Even after all that, he sounds more offended than scared.]

( Sylar could live without music. It was just one of those creature comforts you learned to give up when you were constantly on the run from, well, everyone. But to have it so close by and be unable to flick it on? It was its own form of torture. But, no matter how much he altered his own dna, he was still human. Lacking the radio, he'd begun whistling softly and quietly, to an aimless tune. Maybe it was from an old 70s song, maybe not. The sound fades as Mohinder begins to stir. Sylar watches him from the rearview mirror, soon rolling his eyes when the doctor reacted so... typical. )

Did you not hear anything I said before? If I'd wanted you dead, Mohinder, you would've been. Honestly. You're too important to me for that. ( He would absolutely not think further about the possible meanings. ) Clearly not case with the company or Noah or whoever.

( He flicks on the radio, finally, tuning it to some classical rock. "Back in Black". Perfect. He keeps the volume low, even slows the car a little, before continuing in that same casual tone. )

There's some bottles of water back there. Speaking from experience, I know what waking up from that drug feels like.

[This? This is not at all what Mohinder expected. He's not tied up, he's not hanging from the ceiling. Sylar isn't gloating about the drugged tea. The lack of tension makes things feel almost awkward, if he were to be honest. He finds the mentioned bottles, hesitates for a moment, then cracks it open and takes a few gulps of water. He is quite thirsty.]

Noah, you say. [Easier to broach that subject than the 'important to me' one.] I wasn't aware you were on a first-name basis with Mr. Bennet. Is he still alive?

( Sylar can't help but chuckle to himself at the in-joke he won't share. Ah, yes, those pesky first-name basis rules. When did they apply for their situation? Was it when Noah had him trapped in a cell in a cycle of near-death, constantly revived? Or when he stole Claire's ability, along with some key files of juicy targets? )

Yes, he is still alive, since you're so concerned. ( Are you fucking him too, along with the chubby cop? Sylar presses his lips together, biting back the question. He can't temper the unexpected flare of jealousy as he watches Mohinder in the rearview for a beat too long. ) I've no interest in killing him but I'm sure he'd definitely say the opposite. Failure of a "Company man" that he is.

[Mohinder's shoulders relax a little at hearing the agent was still alive. He didn't hold onto any care for the man, but he did go through considerable effort to make sure Bennet stayed alive.]

Yes, well. He's not exactly a shining example of character himself, but who in the Company is?

[He shifts in his seat, sitting up more fully. He feels awake now, and the fight-or-flight response is settling into something more wait-and-see.]

But back to the more important question- where are we going? Or is this a general, all-purpose kidnapping?

( No one at the Company was worth a damn, as far as Sylar was concerned. He had thought to pay them a personal visit, in fact, and Complain To Their Manager. Bless Noah and his errant file keeping, leading him astray... )

We are killing two birds with one stone, Mohinder. Following a string towards memory lane, quite possibly, as well as running our own science project. ( He didn't really need a reason, let alone two, to want to steal Mohinder away from the world. In a way, he was being charitable. ) Which speaking of: why did you have a filled syringe in your desk drawer? More of your "father's research..." ( He imitated Mohinder's accent; easy to do when that voice never strayed far from his thoughts. ) ...Or something of your design, for once?

['Memory lane?' Mohinder immediately thinks of the road trip he and Zane went on, but that can't be it. Sylar couldn't possibly have enjoyed the companionship that Mohinder did. He was just excited for the next kill, surely, and for pulling one over on the naïve son.

The mention of the syringe causes Mohinder to snap out of his own thoughts and stare at Sylar's face in the rearview mirror. It's a rather deer-in-headlights look as he tries to cobble together an explanation.]

It's- it's a continuation, of course. I'd been doing research for Maya- research that has since been destroyed, mind you. I don't want the Company getting their hands on it. The solution in that syringe- [It was, in some small way, a security blanket. If he had that, maybe he would never feel as powerless as he did when Sylar invaded his home and threatened Molly. ...and clearly that hadn't worked out at all, considering their current position.] -it should have been destroyed along with the rest of it.

( Sylar makes a gruff noise of disgust at the mention of Maya's name and flinches in his seat. That was one more 'memory lane' he didn't need reminded of. How it felt to be so powerless, relying on the whims of an individual who was emotionally unstable at the best of times. Thankfully, as with Candice, she had a blindspot that'd been too easily exploited. )

For having destroyed your research, there sure was a lot of it left. Oh, it's all in the trunk by the way. Looked important, so I brought it.

( That syringe especially had been the proverbial 'shiny thing' that caught his eye. The song's switched now, something slower and with more melody. "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat, and soon, whistling along. )

Edited (music link. i hadn't intended on compiling a playlist but here we are :D) 2020-12-04 03:33 (UTC)

[It was in the car with them? Of course Sylar would take it. Mohinder twists to stare at the seat behind him, as if he could somehow see the research through it.]

I may have gotten caught up in the new avenue. I made more progress than expected.

[He frowns for a moment, but ultimately continues. Sylar will understand, certainly far better than Maya had (that had been such a mess). And hell- it's not like it could be used by the man anyway.]

There is a quirk to the genetic code that represents the marker for special abilities. It seems that epigenetics determine whether the ability itself is 'activated', so...what I created may artificially meet the conditions other people get through normal growth or their environment to activate their abilities. Or it may do nothing.

( Epigenetics. Biological inheritance. He watches Mohinder with a keener interest now, listening intently to his scientific word soup. Music to his ears, really, moreso than Stevie Nicks's melody about thunder and rain. It was half the reason they were now on this trip to begin with, details of which he hadn't fully shared.

What he hears next makes him pull over into the nearest field. Almost as a reflex, his telekinesis holds Mohinder gently in place, similar to the "mom arm" with a child in the passenger seat. His own seatbelt of the physical realm unsnaps and he turns in his seat. )

You want to give yourself power. ( A succinct summary, but its more than that. He's grinning with unexpected delight. The trunk pops open behind them. ) Evolution moving too slowly, hm? Show me.

[Mohinder is hit with the certainty that he'd just made a huge mistake. Sylar understands far too much, and that meant what Mohinder had just done was closer to a confession than some scientific explanation. He can feel the heat rush to his face, but it's too late now. The cat is out of the bag.

He steps out of the car but hesitates to rush to the briefcase in the trunk- as much as he might want to.]

Sylar, I can't just jab myself with an untested cocktail out in the middle of nowhere. I don't have the equipment to take my blood beforehand, and definitely nothing to analyze any changes. Not to mention, this is hardly sanitary. I haven't finished the initial tests, either, and it's clear I'm missing some small component. It may be accounted for in the course of the changes this serum would provide, but right now that's totally unknown.

[A lot of words to try and cover up the fact that he really, really wants to try it. And here he can practically feel the devil over his shoulder now- a grinning devil, nonetheless. He lets out a sigh.]

The only reason I synthesized the thing in the first place was some misguided notion of being able to handle you if you showed up at my door again. [He glances back to the man.] Clearly, that was a fantasy.

( Those were definitely a Lot of Words, and one needn't have an ability to see Mohinder's insatiable scientific curiosity just begging to say 'fuck the rules' and do what he wanted. They didn't even need to spend a week or longer with him (though that helped). For all his growth, the man was simply too readable at times.

Sylar exits the car, leisurely sauntering over to lean against the side facing Mohinder. He did not arrive alone. The syringe floats above his finger in its own invisible sphere, akin to an athlete spinning a basketball. )

Sooo... What I'm hearing is... you fantasized about me.

( The drawl is as playful as it is lazy. He heard the scientific words, knew the risks mentioned, had even a solution to most of them, yet still could not resist the obvious joke. )

[Mohinder's gaze gravitates to the spinning syringe, although he does give Sylar a flat look soon after.]

Har har. Although I did fantasize about beating your face in.

[Or reading Sylar's thoughts. Or whatever it might be that'd have a chance at giving Mohinder the upper hand.]

I have no idea what I would get, even if it did work. The serum isn't meant to give powers, just activate what's already there. If it turned out to be something detrimental like Maya's ability...

[He honestly wouldn't even care, but he can't tell Sylar that. Just to have a chance to be special that way, he'd take the risk. If it worked, of course, and now he's sure he's getting his hopes up for nothing.]

( Sylar thinks of telling him how little harm punching him would actually do. (Which begs the thought: has the nerd thrown a punch in his life? Ever?) He thinks of being a show off but, ultimately, decides the surprise later will be worth the wait. )

Yet you want to find out. I know you, Mohinder. The results don't matter, it's the discovery. That's the thrill of it for you.

( His fingers spread and the syringe launches itself forward. It freezes at Mohinder's throat, stopping just short of piercing the skin. )

You know what I can do. How I could help. ( He steps closer, circling him, keeping the needle poised. ) Shall we rob a hospital, a chemistry lab?

[Mohinder flinches. That's just a normal human reaction to a sharp thing flying at one's throat. He looks down at it as it threatens(?) his neck. He knows that Sylar could completely impale him with it. He also knows that Sylar's curious about this, too.

And yes, he even knows how Sylar could help, if he chose to do so. The man's understanding of special abilities and how they work put him in a unique position, which only made it more infuriating that Sylar chose to take from those people instead of help. But that was not the pressing topic here.

He clears his throat and thinks hard about what to do next. He knows from experience that Sylar has decided what he wants, and that means everything would happen very quickly from here.]

I don't want to rob a hospital. If you'd just left me home-- but fine. There might be an empty tube in the test kit. If so, we can take blood now. We'll have to put it on ice and find a centrifuge within a day. Slides and petri dishes. Those shouldn't be hard to find- or pay for, assuming my wallet is in there somewhere. We can analyze it all after whatever it is we're doing here.

[This is a terrible idea. Still, he can feel his adrenaline pumping at the very thought of actually going through with this. He might actually manage to have his own ability!]

( Sylar rolls his eyes as he finishes his circling and steps around until he's in front of him again. Leaving Mohinder home was never an option. There were too many fun things planned, and now this syringe on top of his own carefully constructed plans. It was just that spark of chaos he didn't realize he needed. The syringe flies back to his hand, floating aimlessly once more, and Sylar even steps back a couple paces. )

Trunk's open, grab what you need. I do not have command over ice... yet... so we'll need another way. I did see a sign for a truck stop diner and rest stop some mile or so back.

( Laying out options, offering tips and insight. The role of assistant, only this time, he had no intentions of sabotaging Mohinder's work. There was no one to hunt right now, no abilities to steal. There was only Mohinder and his project, and permitting him the space (within certain parameters) to work. Absently, he waggles his fingers downwards and up, with the syringe acting as his telekinetic yo-yo. He waits until Mohinder had walked towards the trunk before he turns and calls after him. )

By the way? I wasn't going to stab you. I just wanted to see what you'd do.

( Testing boundaries, crumbling those feeble denials to lay bare the true desires beneath, and syringes. The trifecta that made up their entire relationship. )

Edited 2020-12-05 01:20 (UTC)

Mmm-hmm. Well, I'm not a mind-reader yet, so you'll just have to forgive the trepidation.

[He speaks matter-of-factly, but his eyes are alight with the reality of what they're about to do. Maybe it would even the playing field a little, at least.

Mohinder is quick to head to the trunk and open his briefcase and test kit. There are, in fact, three empty test tubes available for use, along with the rest of his phlebotomy equipment. He shuts the case with a satisfied smile.]

Just the ice, then. The truck stop will do. We'll get a cooler if they have one, and- hmmm. Perhaps we should pick up some snacks. I've noticed, between you and Peter Petrelli, that the metabolism increases pace with the use of abilities.

[You both eat like you're starving, he means. Mohinder carries his briefcase with him to the passenger seat, where he makes himself comfortable. He pulls out a couple notes to peruse while Sylar drives.]

( 'Not a mind-reader yet.' Something about the finality of it ticks loudly in his mind, the seconds hand striking twelve. If this works, if his Mohinder gets an ability, then the power balance between them will shift drastically.

Suppose he gets the ability to alter time and space? What if he prevents his father's death, or worse? Sylar looks down at the floating syringe in his palm. He could take that all away, right now, with just a touch of electricity. But, as trepidatious as he was, well, he shared in Mohinder's curiosity, too. Something about seeing the man so ecstastic, all but aroused by possibilities; what kind of monster would he be if he took that away?

Mohinder's voice pulls him from his thoughts, as it always did, and he follows him back to the trunk. There he'll set the syringe back in its proper case, secured snugly by the physical realm instead of telekinetic. As he meanders back the driver's seat it occurs to him: the power dynamic has already changed.

Perhaps that is why, some odd time later at the truck stop, he petulantly steals a candy bar. Mohinder had said on arrival that he didn't want any killing, or stealing, his Company credit card was still active... And some other things too, but Sylar was too distracted by the righteous fire in his eyes, how his jaw had been defiantly set, and that velvety steel authority in his voice that sent Sylar's mind down a rabbit hole of imagination. That same voice ordering Sylar to his knees, to unzip Mohinder's jeans with his teeth, and don't you dare use your powers, Gabriel...

As revenge, Sylar had thickened his accent to a more classical New York, and struck up small talk with the clerk, shamelessly flirting throughout the entire time they were there. It helped they were the only ones in the small store, and could be heard as far back as the coolers. For his portion of the supplies, he'd grabbed various crackers, snacks, some of the sandwiches under the heater that didn't look too dried out, and various caffeinated teas and bottled waters.

"Big trip planned, y' understand," he'd said with a wink, as if that had a double meaning. "Long overdue honeymoon."

The clerk had looked between the two of them, smiled knowingly, and continued with their purchase. Sylar blew a kiss as they departed the store. )

[Mohinder had known from the start that keeping Sylar in check was going to be a job in and of itself- but he didn't care. The ends were worth it, even if he wasn't thinking of the implications just now.

He did, of course, hear everything Sylar is saying in the store. The flirting tugged on some sort of uncomfortableness, something he really couldn't define and didn't care to evaluate. But the lie at the end- well. As they walked out of the store, he shook his head, looking amused.]

You are such a child. But if it makes you feel any better, we are technically stealing all this from the Company. I'm sure they can afford it.

[The dynamic has definitely shifted. Mohinder takes his blood while in the car, as his hands are steady and he is impatient. He only waits about a mile before ordering Sylar to pull off the road.]

This patch of grass is as good as any other. Now, there is a final component to start the process- adrenaline. But at this very moment, I don't think I'm going to need any help in that department. The changes should occur as soon as I'm injected.

( After that completely baseless accusation against his maturity, Sylar had made a 'Who, me?' gesture, then enjoyed the stolen midnight milky way for the next half hour. He decides against pointing out that they needn't have paid for anything at all, and saved the funds - which might get cut off at any moment - for when it they were in more dire need. They'd had that argument already on the short drive there. It was better to hold back for the inevitable 'I told you so' later anyhow.

For his part, he keeps the speed and radio low as Mohinder took his blood, keeping an eye on him just in case he had to intervene. He hadn't, of course, and when instructed to, he pulls over. By now the sun had long since set and darkness, pierced by the bright full moon, settles over them like a cloak.)

But, are you really sure you don't need any help? I can think of many ways we could get your heart pumping.

( Pleasurable. Painful. All the same to him. He stands a few feet from Mohinder; much as he wants to do all manner of things to him, there was still an injection going on. He has enough respect to give him the space he needed. )

[Getting out of the car, Mohinder is struck by the beauty of the scene. The moon bathes them in a gentle glow, giving him plenty of light to see by. Mohinder takes a moment to pack his blood vial into the cooler.]

I'm sure you can. But thankfully there are no ceilings to plaster me to, here.

[He takes the syringe out of the kit, holding it carefully for a moment and just staring. The voice in the back of his head telling him this is a terrible idea has been silenced for the moment- instead all he can hear are the whispers of promise. He pops the cover off the needle. When he speaks, his voice is breathy and quiet.]

Besides, this is a life-changing moment. It's enough.

[He makes a fist and injects himself with the full contents. Aside from him tossing the syringe to the ground and flexing his arm, nothing seems to happen for a long moment. Then-

He can feel it, something cascading inside his system. It overwhelms his senses and he immediately starts to seize. He has an appointment with the ground, unless Sylar has something to say about that.]

( Sylar does indeed have something to say about that. He has lots to vocalize, actually, but they're all a mix of exclamations, curses, and thinly-veiled concerns. When Mohinder meets the ground - gently, aided by telekinesis, and turned onto his side - one of the pillows from the car will meet him.

Sylar kneels beside Mohinder, feeling the most powerless he's ever felt since the Shanti virus had ravaged his system. Nothing at his disposal could help him in this moment, short of using his blood like a vampire to revive him. But that was worse case scenario and one he didn't like to think about. He does the only thing he can: hold one of Mohinder's hands in both of his own and look on, genuinely concerned for the outcome.

Once the seizing stops, and he appears at rest, Sylar remains quiet. What if Mohinder gave himself super-hearing? The sound of a tuning fork still makes Sylar wince after their eventful night together, and the last thing Sylar wanted to do was deafen him. He continues the comforting gestures, using his other hand to lightly brush away dark curls from his flushed forehead. )

[Mohinder stops seizing after about a minute, but remains unconscious for another few after that. When he comes to, he blinks up at Sylar, bleary-eyed. Sweat drips off his brow. And he can feel Sylar holding his hand. The physical comfort, not common in his adult years, is welcome. He squeezes it back.

And he feels the snap of bones under his fingertips. It doesn't feel right. He lets go.]

Wha-? Sylar? What's--

[It's possible he's been artificially unconscious too many times today.]

( Sylar barely has time to appreciate the fact Mohinder reflexively clung to him before he's crying out. It's more in surprise than pain, and soon he's pressing his lips together quickly and groaning beneath them, grimacing. He knows you're not supposed to startle a person coming out of a seizure, but also, Jesus pole-dancing Christ. There's no warning for what to do when the person you're helping breaks several bones; or at least, none in the books he read.

He wrests his hand from Mohinder's, holding it steady above his supine friend. For what feels like too long, he breathes sharply between clenched teeth, then a sigh of relief when the healing finally kicks. There's some hesitation where he very clearly wants to hold Mohinder's hand again, but instead, settles for resting it idly on his side. )

You're damn lucky I can heal now. ( His irritation is more for the sudden pain than the man who inflicted it. That fades quickly into concern. ) How're you feeling, Mohinder?

Edited 2020-12-06 03:10 (UTC)

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