I'm Going To Break You: Part 4 (Mylar slash fanfic)

[aunt_zelda]

Title: I’m Going to Break You: Part 4 (This is the last one)

Rating: Probably R

Genre: Angsty, nasty stuff

Warnings: Uh … it’s rated R … there’s some nasty flashbacks … I’m getting bored with this so it’s not written too well …

Disclaimer: Uh … obviously I don’t own Heroes, because if I did, I’d have them making out on screen instead of in slash fics or my twisted mind …

Recap If You’re Lazy And Won’t Follow My Lovely Links: Sylar showed up at Mohinder’s apartment and, after some bickering and unwanted (or is it?) kissing, Sylar forced Mohinder into bed with him. Sylar’s repeated the scenes from ‘Parasite,’ switching the roles, and I’ll just repost the last bit from Part 3 because that’s where the title comes from.  

My Thoughts: So, yeah, I figured out how to wrap this up nicely with a surprise ending. If you don’t like it, it’s over now, so just lie in wait to critique my D&D fic coming up …

 

“I’m going to break you,” Sylar whispered, drawing pleasure from Mohinder’s ragged breath. “And when you’re good and broken, I’m going to fix you,”

“Fix me?” Mohinder managed. “Does that mean you’ll kill me?”

“Perhaps,” Sylar shrugged. “It depends on how badly you’re broken.”

 

Mohinder lost track of time. Days? For certain. Weeks? Probably. Months? Perhaps …

He could only remember flashes, little snippets …

 

Crying silently as Sylar fucks him again and again, horribly …

 

Assuring Molly over the phone that he’s ok, in India, and he’ll see her soon …

 

Realizing that Sylar will kill him and not caring anymore …

 

Sylar fucking him – because they’re not making love, Sylar is practically raping him – in every conceivable place in the apartment, sometimes on the ceiling …Mohinder can’t stop crying as this happens …

 

“Take a shower.”

It’s not a request, it’s an order. Mohinder staggers towards the bathroom.

“Take a very, very long one, then put on some new clothes and come out here.”

Mohinder doesn’t bother to shut the door, but Sylar closes it softly with his telekinesis. Odd … but Mohinder doesn’t pay it much mind: Sylar’s distinctly weird quirks don’t surprise him anymore.

The shower is comforting, but it’s a bitter, depressing comfort: like watching Romeo and Juliet exchange vows of never-ending love but knowing, deep down, that it’s only temporary. Soon harsh cruelty will return, and nothing can keep it back.

Mohinder waits until his fingers start to wrinkle, then gets out, taking as long as he can drying off and getting dressed.

He takes a deep breath, then leaves the false sanctuary and returns to the living room.

“Hello Mohinder,”

It’s not Sylar … or is it? The man sitting on the couch looks sort of like Sylar, but he’s dressed differently, a buttoned up shirt, plaid. His hair is combed over to the side, he’s holding himself differently, his facial expression is oddly reminiscent of ‘Zane.’

“Who are you?” Mohinder asks, dull fear settling down again.

He gets up. “I’m Gabriel Gray,” he holds out his hand. “Pleased to meet you,”

Mohinder stares at him. “Is this some kind of sick role-play?”

Sy-Gabriel shook his head, looking for all the world like an overgrown puppy. “It was all part of my plan, Mohinder,”

Gabriel says ‘Mohinder’ differently than Sylar. Sylar hissed it, drank passion and pain from it, taunted it. Gabriel sounds as though speaking it is an honor, a sweet joy.

“Your plan?” Mohinder is leaning against the wall, fingers digging into cracks in the woodwork.

“Yes. Jumping you in the hallway, the first night, reenacting all the things you did to Sylar, everything Sylar’s dirty little mind could conceive, all of it, leading up to this. You started with Zane, but then Sylar burst out. Sylar had to finish with you completely, I had to wash him out of my system, let him run his course. You deserve better than Sylar, Mohinder, so much better …” he slowly approaches Mohinder, who stiffens, despite himself.

“Can I … may I … kiss you?” Gabriel asks.

Mohinder stares at him. They are a respectful distance apart: Sylar would never have been able to hold off attacking him for so long at this close a range.

“W-what?” Mohinder gasps.

“I’d understand, if you didn’t … stupid of me …” Gabriel shakes his head and staggers back to the couch.

There’s a twinge inside Mohinder’s chest. Sylar would never be so considerate, so … polite. What’s going on here? “What are you doing? I don’t understand …”

Gabriel stares at him, looking deeply hurt. “You’re broken, Mohinder. Sylar broke you, almost destroyed you. I’m broken too. I want to fix you, but you need to fix me.”

Mohinder blinks, his mind doesn’t work as fast as it used to. “All of that … was to get me … on your level?” he asks.

Gabriel nods. “Just about. I told you that I’m broken. Now you are too.”

Mohinder stares at him. “What would happen if I just left?”

“Sylar would come back. He’s almost gone, but if you don’t try to fix me …” Gabriel looks pained. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mohinder, but Sylar does. He wants desperately to obliterate you. I want to fix you, but only if you’ll fix me …”

Mohinder, tired, weak, beaten, broken, crosses the short expanse of floor to the couch and settles down next to Gabriel. “We’ll help each other back up,” he says slowly.

“We’ll fix each other,” Gabriel smiles weakly. “We’re both broken, I know we can fix each other.”

Mohinder smiles, a single tear trailing down his cheek, his head resting on the other man’s shoulder. They’re both crying now.

“I hope you’re right … Gabriel.”