Impossible Things

Part One

It was the sweetness of your skin
It was the hope of all we might have been
That fills me with the hope to wish
Impossible things

- The Cure

Mohinder nurses Sylar back to health with unexpected consequences, he himself could have never imagined…Spoilers: for "Exploding Man."

A/N I reworked this chapter - no lie a dozen times and I hope I did it justice. It was rough going…so I hope you guys aren't disappointed. Anyway…thanks for reading.

He should have killed him.

That was obvious. He should have taken one look at the miserable wreck of a thing that had crawled himself to his door and unloaded a blissful, deserved bullet into his head and finished him off for good.

Instead, he dragged him into the house and threw him in the tub. He ripped off his shirt and took in the wound, a deep and fatal looking puncture that was still pumping blood in an angry fount. There was so much blood. He couldn't understand how he was still breathing, however shallow said breathing was. The water from the shower barely roused him, he watched his eye lids flicker and heard only one small moan from his lips but otherwise he looked lifeless.

If only that had been the case.

He had applied towels to the wound and pressed hard, hoping to stop the flow, after awhile it seemed to have done the trick. He had bandaged the wound as best he could and

then dragged him to the bed which was no mean feat considering that the man was more or less dead weight and a good deal heavier and taller then himself. Somehow he had managed. He had laid him there, watched him for signs of movement but there were none now.

He looked very young - younger then Mohinder would have thought and perhaps that was why he hadn't killed him then while he was weak and helpless.

Perhaps not…

Exhausted, he had taken a chair in the corner. He was grateful that for now those black, soulless eyes of his were welcomingly closed.

In the day that followed, he paced his small apartment from one room to the other, his nerves a wreck and his resolve in himself shaken to the core. He spent his time drinking endless cups of tea and having one sided conversations with himself that went nowhere.

He opened his eyes on the third day and Mohinder who was leaning over him, checking his vitals gave an unwanted gasp and pulled away but the dark eyes that opened just stared at him - they were bleary, unfocused but the voice that comes out is what stops him from running for the gun he keeps in his nightstand.

"Mohinder?" he whispers and the voice sounds almost relieved.

"Don't worry I am not going to hurt you," he protests weakly as Mohinder refuses to budge from the doorframe, eying him wearily.

"You mean you're too weak to hurt me," Mohinder replies with bitterness and Sylar nods, "yeah that too but even still…I won't."

He doesn't want to trust him but he does so anyway. He steps closer and sets about cleaning his wounds. Sylar grimaces at the first splash of antiseptic, gritting his teeth against it and his face, almost too pale is now contorted in pain.

Mohinder pauses.

"Are you alright?"

Sylar gives him a look, a slight smile on his lips.

"Well, it feels slightly better then a spinal tap if that's what you're asking?"

A sense of humor.

Mohinder almost chuckles at the thought but instead he only smirks and pours more of the antiseptic onto a clean towel and starts patting the wound again.

"It serves you right," he mummers as Sylar catches his eye and holds it with that intense stare of his.

There is a pause, a heavy one.

"Very true," he replies.

He can see that his strength is returning now and Mohinder is fearful of the day in which he will be able to get up and leave.

The knowledge of what he will do once he goes fills Mohinder with a quiet dread that he can't ignore. The guilt is eating at him, wearing him down. He knows now that he is already condemned innocent people to death.

He is as guilty as he is - because he is little more then a coward. He can't end what has started to build inside him - unwanted, ugly, wrong.

He stares at himself in the mirror, waiting to recognize the hollow eyed stare of the man looking back - but he sees no traces of the man he knows.

He is starting to hate himself.

"You know why I came here, don't you?"

Mohinder is taken aback by the question, as he walks into the room to check on him.

Sylar is sitting up now. He is still weak but no longer near death, the color is returning to his face and every day he appears stronger, in better control of himself.

"No," Mohinder says, coming closer to the bed, "I really don't."

"Because…you're a good man Mohinder…I knew you would help me."

"I was going to kill you," Mohinder says, eyes narrowed.

"So, why didn't you?"

"I don't know," he admits, refusing to meet those dark, unfathomable eyes of his, their hard, demanding stare.

"I think you do," Sylar says and there is a small, infuriating, almost mocking smile on his lips and Mohinder turns from him, starts back towards the door.

"Just remember I did pull the trigger once," he says in what he hopes is a voice that projects a control that he does not feel.

"Mohinder?"

He turns back.

"You don't need be afraid of me," he says but Mohinder doesn't answer him. He leaves the room, shaking.

He wakes up the next morning on the sofa of which he has spent the last few weeks or so sleeping on. His body is stiff, the couch not having been the most comfortable place to sleep on. He sits up slowly, wiping the sleep from his eyes when he realizes what awoke him the first place.

The shower.

Someone was in the bathroom taking a shower.

He sits there a moment, still awakening, feeling unsettled by all that implies.

The shower shuts off and he listens to the sound of running water.

He gets up and moves cautiously towards the door and is startled when it opens and standing there wrapped only in a towel is Sylar.

The bandage, he just reapplied the night before is soaked through, a small ring of blood soaking through the gauze.

He is angry. He will have redo the bandage but it isn't only that - its this familiarity he can't stand.

He can't stand looking at him, walking out of the bathroom as if he lives here as if it's the most normal thing in the world for him to be standing in Mohinders hallway, wrapped in one of his bath towels.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Sylar smiles, "I needed a shower," he says calmly enough and Mohinder turns away, feeling a hot blush creep across his face as the towel falls a bit, revealing a glimpse of even more bare skin and Sylar smiles, that same infuriating, knowing smile of his, and reaches down and tugs it back into place.

"I don't think I used one of the good ones," he quips.

"I guess this means you're feeling better," Mohinder says, ignoring him as Sylar starts towards the bedroom.

"That depends on what you mean by better," he calls back over his shoulder and Mohinder has had enough of his snide, sarcastic remarks.

He stalks after him and follows him into the bedroom.

"I think you better get dressed and leave," he says and Sylar turns with one of Mohinder's shirts and slides it over his head.

"If that's what you want," he replies, challenging him yet again with another stare.

It drives the fury out of Mohinder and he is shouting before he even realizes he is.

"Did you think I was asking you to move in?"

Sylar just stares at him, amused smirk still held firmly in place.

"Can I get dressed?"

Mohinder chokes back another flood of anger and nods solemnly.

"I want you gone," he says and turns to leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He goes into the kitchen and puts the kettle on, he finds he can barely get a cup from the cupboard, his hands are shaking so badly and he stops for a moment and he puts his head into his hands and feels hot tears burn his palms.

He doesn't hear him come up beside him, until he speaks.

"You know I was kind of hoping you would join me that shower," he says and Mohinder looks up and quickly wipes at his eyes, makes his expression hard.

"Then not only are you a lunatic but you're delusional as well."

Sylar chuckles and takes his hand and holds it and Mohinder wants to yank it back and away from him but finds he can't.

His touch burns…

It trails hot fire straight through his body and he feels it, the rush of the abyss, of what one would feel like to fall into as he stares into those eyes of his unable to look away.

"Now, you know why I came here," Sylar says and Mohinder pulls his hands away and moves away from him.

"Just leave , do me that one courtesy and just turn around and leave."

"Alright," Sylar says and he looks at him once more, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Mohinder says quietly but he isn't entirely sure and he hates himself for it, for even entertaining for the smallest of moments what it would be like to be with him, to feel those large hands of his on him, those lips…demanding, forceful, controlling.

"Thanks again Dr. Suresh," Sylar says with a smirk.

He turns and starts to go but something inside Mohinder snaps, something dark and alien and so unlike him. He grabs his arm and pulls him back and Sylar does not hesitate, not even for a second as he catches him in his arms and drives them both back towards the counter, upsetting some left out dishes. It doesn't stop them as there lips meet and collide in a fury of finally realized desire.

Mohinder closes his eyes as tightly as he can, feeling the thud of his heart pounding in his ears, willing away the evitable guilt that will surely follow but in this moment, all he can feel is him.

The fierceness of his desire, his strength and he gives himself up to the moment - this thing he has hungered for - this thing he should not want but is strangely powerless against.

Just once he will yield to temptation, to him.

"You don't know how long I have wanted this," Sylar breathes into his mouth.

He pulls back long enough to take Mohinder's face in his hands, starts to kiss him. The kisses are maddeningly slow, tender.

Mohinder doesn't want this. He doesn't want him to be gentle with him, patient. He wants the moment to catch him by surprise, take him by force. He doesn't want this to be about something other then lust and desire. He can't bear the thought that he might actually love this man. This loathsome thing that had killed his father and so many others.

"Just…don't…"

Make me love you…

Sylar pulls his body closer to his own, till they are pressed firmly against one another, the heat from each other sending shivers of pain and anticipation down Mohinder's spine.

He is crying silently, they spill down his face and he can feel his touch, so surprisingly tender and gentle. Those fingers skimming his tears, gentle lips leaning in and softly kissing them away.

He is shaking so hard, tremors racing through him as he stands there in Sylar's embrace, allowing him to sooth away his doubts. The last shreds of any resistance he might have left in him.

He gives himself up to the turmoil inside himself and he snakes his arms around his neck and draws him into his arms.

Sylar pulls back and grabbing him by his shirt turns them around and marches them towards the living room, their lips never leaving one another's as they go. Once there, he pushes Mohinder down onto the couch, pins him there with his mind as he reaches for his shirt and tosses it off and to the floor, the bandage along with it - all while eying Mohinder with that predatory gaze of his. The look of pure lust in those eyes causes Mohinder to groan out loud with anticipation as he lays there unable to move.

He hasn't even touched him but he can feel the buttons on his shirt rip, the belt of his pants being pulled from him and flung across the room and then Sylar is on him, pushing his pants off his hips, his mouth once more claiming his in a delicious fight for power that Mohinder willingly lets him win.

Sylar gives him back control of himself and Mohinder sets about returning his kisses, trailing them down his neck and to his shoulders and in return Sylar moves upon him like a man possessed.

He is being eaten alive it feels, that hot mouth of his everywhere - he moans from the pleasure and cries from the pain as he feels Sylar start to move inside him. There is no warning but it doesn't matter because he is ready for him, eager for it. He wants it to hurt, likes the gasp of pain he utters as he is taken now.

Yes - make it hurt…hurt me… please…

Sylar is panting over him, pressing his forehead to his own, bracing himself on his arms as he moves harder, faster inside him taking him to the very edge of madness, making his whole body ache with it.

Mohinder reaches up to grip him by his biceps, urging him on.

"Oh god, oh…"

Sylar stops mid thrust and looks at him and Mohinder arches his back, wanting him deeper.

"Please… don't…don't stop," he begs and Sylar catches his eye, and Mohinder sees tears in them.

He is overcome.

He doesn't know what to do as he sees the pain on the face of the man he thought beyond redemption, beyond saving. He moves under him, urging him on, wanting all of him.

He reaches up and digs his nails into his shoulders and cries with him as they start to move again in a tangled frenzy of limbs - of unspoken words now only being said as they moan and pant and move together, each of them reaching for a place of understanding there is no name for.

"Sylar…" Mohinder moans and pulls him into another kiss, their tongues dancing together and suddenly Sylar is all the way in, riding him harder then before and Mohinder can feel his tears as they fall and mix with his own.

"It's Gabriel," he says, breathing the name in his ear, "call me Gabriel."

It's upon him now, Mohinder can feel it building - the pleasure mixed with the pain of it and he starts to sob uncontrollably as he hits his climax and he feels a shudder go through Sylar's own body as he follows after him.

Sylar collapses on top of him with a strangled cry and lies there, panting.

Mohinder pulls his body closer to his own, both of them too overwhelmed to speak, to break the spell of the moment.

There are things to be said but neither of them can even begin to put them into words.

So, they simply hold one another and wait for reality to set in.

Mohinder wakes up much later and knows even before he sees the note beside him that he is gone, the pain of it - his absence fills him now with a mixture of emotions. He pushes them away, locks them up in the dark of himself.

"I'll be back for you…"

It says and Mohinder crumbles it up in his hand, gets up and goes into the bathroom. He is numb, no feeling - no emotion until he looks in the mirror. There is redness in his eyes and a streak of dried blood on his chest. A faint, last, tangible reminder of him, of what happened between them.

It shocks him back into himself, reminds of what he is now.

He grips the sink, lowers his head, cries.

TBC