Stop Me (Mylar fic)

[aunt_zelda]

Title: Stop Me

Rating: Uh … PG … I guess …

Genre: Angst? Crack tries to intrude sometimes …

Warnings: Umm … shaky writing and my dreams coming true?

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

My Thoughts: I don’t know where this came from, I just typed it up in about one sitting, then I got distracted and forgot to post it.

 

 

Stop me, Mohinder.

He knew that his thoughts couldn’t be heard: the telepath was lying against a wall, bleeding, possibly dead. Served him right for doing such a stupid thing as coming after him, Sylar, with a gun.

Idiot.

Peter Petrelli had been flown up into the sky with his brother, but they’d left Sylar alive.

Yes, that little Japanese man with the incredible ability – at least he, of all of them, was trying to use his powers properly – had stabbed him in the chest, but he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even close.

And now he was going to explode.

Anger, desperation, the need to die in a special way. It could have been all of those or none at all. Maybe his body was just reacting in ways he couldn’t control.

Stop me!

Mohinder was crouched over that telepath, trying valiantly to save his life. A little girl with long brown hair – Molly Walker – was crouched beside him. She was staring directly at Sylar now. She watched as he staggered to his knees, hands burning with radioactive fire, and whispered something to Mohinder.

Stop me, please!

Mohinder gasped and got up, taking the little girl’s hands, telling her to join the others: the blond woman who’d hit him with a parking meter, her bleeding husband, their curly-headed child, the man with horn-rimmed glasses, Claire. They were all getting into a car, running away, now that Peter was gone.

The little girl shook her head, but Mohinder yelled something – a promise? – and she reluctantly turned and ran off to the others. The blond woman ran over, dragged the telepath up, exchanged some frenzied words with Mohinder, then returned to the others, taking the telepath with her.

The car sped away.

They might make it out of the city alive … perhaps …

Mohinder clenched his fists and strode over to where Sylar was.

Stop me … Sylar begged with his eyes.

Mohinder knelt down in front of him, his eyes locking with Sylar’s.

“You should run,” Sylar said. “I don’t think I can … I can’t … you should run.”

Mohinder raised his eyebrows. “You are what you are because of my father. I continued his work, led you to people who died at your hands, failed again and again at stopping you,” he winced. “It’s only right that I die here, during this explosion,”

Sylar almost gasped.

Stop me …god, Mohinder, stop me!

“Stop me …” he whispered. Mohinder started slightly.

“Please … Mohinder … I … I don’t want to die …” Sylar felt tears trickling down his face. All that he’d achieved would earn him a place in hell, he knew that without all the lessons from his mother’s church. “Please … stop me …”

Mohinder stood up, something between terror and disgust on his face. “How?” he choked out, rummaging in a bag he’d been helping the telepath with. “I don’t have any tranquilizers … how can I stop you?!”

“I don’t know!” Sylar practically wailed, staring down at his flaming hands. “There’s got to be something you can do …!” a blast of nuclear energy pulsated from him, and Mohinder flew backwards and smashed into a wall.

Sylar could barely see through the tears now. “Just … just get out of here! Save yourself!” he felt himself crumple up and fall down onto the ground, face first.

Stop me … somebody … stop me …

“You’ll die if you stay here!” Sylar screamed. The nuclear energy was hurting him now. “I don’t want to kill you Mohinder, I … I love you!”

“I’m not going to leave you, Sylar!” Mohinder yelled. “I won’t let you die alone, I’m going to stay here until the end!”

All this earned was a wrenching sob from Sylar, who couldn’t speak anymore: only sobs and unintelligible noises of pain, both physical and mental, could pass through his mouth.

Time seemed to slow. Mohinder remained where he was, huddled at the base of the wall, watching as Sylar started to become the Exploding Man.

Sylar only twitched when the radioactive energy pulsed to a higher level, more movement made it so much worse, but he had to get away from Mohinder. If the suicidal geneticist wouldn’t move, he’d have to.

He didn’t know how, but he somehow managed to crawl over to a manhole, melt the cover, and drop down into the sewers below. A few inches of concrete and tar wouldn’t help much, but at least he’d tried.

As Sylar slid down the scummy wall of the sewer to die, he realized that there was somebody on the other side of the tunnel.

He tried to say something like ‘go away! You’ll die! I’m going to explode!’ but all he could do was make painful whimpers and continue to emulate deadly force fields.

The man practically blended into the wall: Sylar could only see the whites of the man’s eyes and … a familiar symbol, dangling from a necklace.

“Sylar!”

Mohinder’s head appeared at the manhole. “I wish I could … I’m so sorry!”

The dark man glanced up at Mohinder, then stepped forward. Sylar closed his eyes: he didn’t want to see this stranger melt away, but he felt the burning energy leaving his body. He was no longer in pain: he could move on his own, he could have spoke if he wasn’t so exhausted.

“I’ve stopped you,” the dark man said in an accented voice. “For now. Close your eyes again …”

Sylar was on the verge of blacking out, shut his eyes. Death would be frightening, but at least he wouldn’t be taking half of NYC with him. Maybe hell wouldn’t be all that bad with that knowledge.

Save me …

~*~

Mohinder staggered backwards, staring at the dark, tall man who was carrying Sylar up the ladder, up from the sewers, back to him.

“I’ve heard of you …” Mohinder whispered. “You take people’s memories, negate their powers, right?”

The Haitian nodded. “When he wakes up in a few hours, he won’t remember anything. Nothing that will direct him back to his biological family, or Sylar, or Zane Taylor, do you understand?”

Mohinder could only nod.

“He’ll need to be taken care of, you can do that,” the Haitian glanced around. “Got a car or something? You don’t look like the type who could get him very far.”

Mohinder ignored the slight insult. “The Company gave me one … over there …” he pointed across the plaza.

“Good,” the Haitian began to half carry, half drag … who was that bloody, wet man now? “Keep him under constant watch. If he begins to return to Sylar: kill him. Can you do that?”

“Of course!”

The Haitian looked at him.

“I could if I had to, if there was no other way,” Mohinder didn’t like this man too much.

“Good. I suggest taking the bag I’ve got on my back and going to Canada. You might be safer there.”

They had reached the car. Mohinder unlocked it and helped the Haitian put … the other man … into the front seat.

Mohinder accepted the bag, glancing inside he found passports, money, numerous documents, a USB drive, a gun. “That you …”

“I may check in occasionally,” the Haitian shut the door and stepped back. “Can you do this, Doctor Suresh?”

Mohinder took a deep breath. “I think I can.”

“Good luck,” the Haitian began to walk away. “You should contact the others: Mr. Bennet, the Sanders, what’s left of the Company, in a few days. They’ll want to know you’re safe, and that Sylar is gone.”

And he vanished.

Mohinder could have sworn he heard two sets of footsteps …

~*~

The man woke up around seven the next morning. A Canadian flag flew from a post nearby.

“W-where am I?” he asked blearily, glancing to his left. He jumped. A man with dark curly hair was in the driver’s seat next to him. “Who are you?!” he demanded, trying to sound braver than he felt.

The other man sighed. “My name is Mohinder Suresh. I’m a geneticist. You are Gabriel Grey, my … friend. You recently got into a car accident and have been suffering from amnesia. The doctors …” his voice broke slightly. “The doctors said you might never … remember …”

The man – Gabriel? – blinked. “That sounds a little far-fetched …”

Mohinder handed him some documents. Gabriel didn’t understand much of it, but it matched what Mohinder had said. Gabriel dug through his memory: blurred flashes … the only thing that was clear was faint recollections of this man – Mohinder – and feelings his mind linked with him: warmth, love, passion … he shook his head.  

“I’m not completely sure …” Gabriel said slowly. “But I … I guess I can trust you.”

Mohinder smiled, his eyes brimming over. He wiped them hurriedly on his sleeve. “Good,” he managed, his smile practically putting sunlight to shame. “Good.”  

Comments

[fiannav69.livejournal.com]

Are you going to on with this one? There are so many directions you could go: Them falling in love, Sylar remembering who he used to be, and trying to kill Mohinder, but when he can't he tries to make amends to him. (Like some of the others.)

[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

I was going to leave it at that, but so many people praised and commented and threatened me with Sylar eating my brain that I've started to write sequels, many, many sequels ...
This summer should be fun!

[fiannav69.livejournal.com]

It is so cute, though... I'd love sequels, but I promise to leave that up to you. (No brains for me! LOL)

[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

(No brains for me! LOL)

I'm jelous of your icon, I'll have to make myself some this summer ... when I'm not writting sequels, watching Lost, or figuring out the twists and turns of this wacky site thingy!
I'm happy to write sequels, its just that I hadn't intended to, then people started praising me over at mylar ...

[aiisling.livejournal.com]

I read this before, and I DEFINITLY thought I'd commented. But since I didn't...
YAY! I love the love angst.

[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

Love angst ... hmmm ... I've been trying to figure out what the frak the genre of this AU of mine is ... but crack creeps in sometimes so I dunno ...
This was the first time I wrote the Haitian ... and now I'm using him again in 'What They Know.' I rather like him ... though in this he was just a rather convenient device to get 'happily ever after.' He also leaves with Claude ... but as far as I know, nobody picked up on that ...

[whatwas.livejournal.com]

I'm trying to catch up on this....
I thought I had read it and commented on it, but I guess not... lol

anyways... loved your take on this and how the Haitian took Sylar's memories away....

I'm off to read the other parts!
<3

[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

Thanks! (Part 5 to be posted hopefully tomorrow, read at my journal as to why.)

[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

I'll read it later ... so sick! And my relations are urging me to bed ... plus I might throw up on the keyboard, which wouldn't be good ... (I explain and apologize at my journal, read it ...)
I worked hard on part 5 ... it'll be good when it's posted ... *is fading fast*