rp for genetic_fate: telekinesis 101

[heroslayer]

They had been on the lam for somewhere around seven days now, and already, Sylar was tired of hotel rooms. Not that he had anything against relative comfort in comparison to how he usually spent his nights on the run, holed up in stolen houses or cars--he'd even slept in the cab of an 18-wheeler once. It was just different that how he was used to operating, normally. Foreign to the point that it made him slightly uncomfortable, and all because it wasn't part of the plan.

He wouldn't argue it, though. Mohinder needed somewhere with a real bed and running water still, what with the still-healing wound at his shoulder. And, were he to stick to his usual seedy haunts, the risk of infection or death rose substantially--something that wouldn't do, all things considered. Funny that he should be concerned with a neck that wasn't his own, really, but true nevertheless.

Just like it was true that, if he expected to keep his own head over the course of the next twelve hours, he'd need to teach the Indian some measure of control over his newfound telekinesis. Because the way things were looking now, watching him scribble hurriedly on a notepad they'd found in their room when they'd gone up? It would be a miracle if the geneticist didn't accidentally put the pen through his head or his own; there had already been a few mishaps to that effect.

Making a face, he moved over to the other man and pressed his fingers to his shoulder, lightly. "Mohinder."

Comments

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Mohinder had been desperate to get his hands on pen and paper ever since he had reinjected himself earlier that day, in the hospital. The implications of what he had discovered there - that serum created from the same genetic code could give rise to different powers - had been hounding his mind ever since. Now that he had pen and paper to hand, he was wasting no time in getting every thought that sprung into his head onto paper. The room's small table had quickly been covered in notes, strings of genetic code, signs and symbols that couldn't possibly mean a thing to anybody but Mohinder.

Unfortunately, the instability of his power was making his work hard-going. It was infuriating, to try and continue, when every five minutes something would go flying. So far, he had mananged to tear several pieces of paper, send his pen shooting into his own forehead, and across the room to smack into the far wall. One particular moment of excitement, when he had been blessed with a particularly ingenious idea, had send the entire table skittering several inches to one side. And, in his most recent telekinetic outburst, all his sheets of paper had been thrown across the room, showing Sylar with a snowfall of genetic formulae.

It was highly infuriating, though he knew he had no one to blame. He had wanted these powers, still did. He only wished that they would come complete with Sylar's ability to control them. So, when Sylar interrupted him with that touch, spoke his name, he felt he could be forgiven for the snappiness of his response.

"What?"

[heroslayer]

"You need to learn control," he said, simply.

From the way he looked, however, there was no room for argument here. No suggestion that, since his stolen telekinesis would burn up for to long, that Mohinder could get out of trying to learn to restrain himself. This was not a choice, it was an order--he needed to learn--and maybe it would be for the best. Maybe, if he could teach the Indian how to handle moving things with his mind, he'd be able to cope better with other, different ones, later on.

It was worth a try. And even if it didn't work for the long run, at least he wouldn't have to worry about Mohinder having some telekinetic fit that killed them both, right now.

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

"I'm busy," Mohinder stated, not looking up from his madly scribbled notes. Still, despite the harsh tone to his voice, he knew that Sylar would win this arguement. There was something in the way he spoke. Also, Mohinder had grown up in academia. He knew that the best way to come up with scientific theory was to step away, to let your mind wander onto something else for a while, not continue to push out thoughts until your very being ached with exhaustion.

All that in mind, he sighed and looked up. "I'm sorry. Maybe you're right."

[heroslayer]

Sylar hummed agreement, pulling his hand away from where it had been lingering at Mohinder's shoulder. Of course he was right--he usually was, when it came to things like this.

"Let me see the pen."

For as good a job at masquerading as a question as the words seemed, however, this was far from a polite request. He wanted to see if the geneticist could offer him the writing tool without unwanted use of his powers; it was the first step in discerning just how bad the problem was, after all. And while he trusted Mohinder, it didn't stop him from tensing mentally, ready to stop any number of things he could accidentally throw at him while doing something as simple as handing him a pen.

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Mohinder did as he was instructed, and without any drama. It seemed that when he was calm, thinking straight, he was able to suppress the power that he could feel constantly, bubbling away inside of him. The uncontrollable outbursts? Had all been when his mind had been elsewhere, adrenaline-fueled and obsessive over his findings. When he calmed down, he could interact with the physical world without sending things flying.

"There." He said, laying the pen into Sylar's palm. "How's that going to help?"

[heroslayer]

"It proved you could do it without using your ability, accidentally," he answered, eyes darting from Mohinder to the pen. "Telekinesis is ... an art. It needs focus. You couldn't control it before, because you were thinking about your research. Now you can, because you wanted to know where I was going with this, and that required thinking about handing me the pen."

Clearly, Sylar had connected the variables as to why he hadn't been able to make it work just right, before.

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

"Alright," Mohinder nodded, accepting the explanation. "So... I have to learn to think about my power when I'm... not thinking about my power?"

That bit? That was going to be the hard bit. The power inside him, he could feel that constantly, it was hard not to think about it. But at the same time... it felt like a living thing, inside him. Unless he gave it his full concentration, it was near impossible to keep a controlling hold over. He let his mind wander, and although he was still aware of the power... he wasn't able to grip it so well.

[heroslayer]

"Until it becomes second nature? Yes," he agreed, tilting his head at the geneticist, thoughtfully. "You can feel it, can't you? Just under your skin? Humming in your blood?"

Sylar moved his hand sharply--so fast that the pen fell, but it never hit the ground. Instead, he turned his hand, palm parallel with it, holding it in place just inches above the ground. "It needs a focus, like--like a funnel for water. Like right now, it's a series of strings, holding up the pen. Like a marionette doll."

He paused, thoughtfully, and then added, "It's why I make so many hand gestures, when I use this ability."

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Mohinder stood silently, eyes flicking between Sylar's face, his hand, and the pen that hovered above the ground. He was near certain he would have no idea how to pull that stunt himself. The road sign, outside Monica's house? That had been brutal, no control necessary. Like with his first power, it had built up inside him to such a degree that he just had to release it, and that sign had just happened to be what he was focussing on at the time. Now, with that humming in his blood that Sylar had described definitely there, but not so loud, he had no idea how to produce the ability inside of him.

"I'm not like you," he finally stated. "I don't see how things work. I don't know how to use this power... not until it builds up and I have to release it. Like earlier."

[heroslayer]

Sylar gritted his teeth, irritated by the fact that he wouldn't even try. He just assumed he couldn't do it because, as of yet, they weren't quite the same.

"I know that, Suresh," he answered shortly, pulling the pen up to him with another sharp gesture. "That's why I'm telling you this. This is how it works. How I see it. Imagine there are strings, and you can hold something up. Or a knife if you want to cut something. Or a magnet, to bring something to you."

And so on and so forth; he could have kept going for ages. It was, after all, how he'd learned mastery over the power in the first place. He could still remember the first glass he'd moved, in Chandra's apartment, pretending it was one of those child's toys with a magnetic key that made the pieces seem to move on their own. It was how he'd gotten it to come to him and, hell, it was still how he made things come, gestures made for show or otherwise.

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Mohinder accepted Sylar's descriptions with a curt nod, arms crossing over his chest in a gesture which spoke volumes. He wasn't enjoying this situation, didn't want to have to be taught. Everything up to now, he'd worked it out himself. The possibility of the injections, how to create the serum... it had all been him. And now, some (possibly irrational) sense of jealousy, of pride, was making him that little bit more guarded than normal.

"What do you suggest I do?" He asked, defensiveness obvious in his voice.

[heroslayer]

He held the pen out. "You don't have to wait until it builds up. It's still there--the power. You can take the pen from me, possibly without incident if you do what I told you."

A pause, and then, the killer added, "Don't force it." Or else the pen was liable to end up embedded in the wall in much the same manner that the first glass he'd moved had shattered upon it. "Just hold out your hand."

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Mohinder did as he was told, holding his hand out, towards the pen in Sylar's own hand. Still, something about his actions suggested he was doing this against his better judgement. Like a petulant child, forced into doing some unpleasant chore by a parent, and making damn sure that parent knew they were gaining no pleasure from the job.

"Hand out." He commented, unnecessarily.

[heroslayer]

"Congratulations," he quipped back, biting his tongue--figuratively--to keep himself from spitting out something more venomous. "Now, do like I said, Mohinder. A magnet. Your fingers are one polarity, the pen, the other."

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

One final glare in Sylar's direction, one last pointer that he thought all this somewhat unnecessary, and then he let himself fall into the instruction. This would be over quicker that way, after all.

His eyes focused first on his hand, fingers outstretched towards the pen, and then on the pen itself. Taking a deep breath, he tried to visualise a magnet, as Sylar had suggested. He imagined the magnetic field between the two, concentrated so hard his head ached, and eventually his labours paid off.

The pen twitched in Sylar's hand and then, moments later, it was soaring through the air into Mohinder's own palm. The velocity was greater than the Indian had expected however, and he couldn't help but wince at the impact. No serious damage, nothing like that, but still... it felt like he'd been given a sharp rap across his hand.

[heroslayer]

Sylar watched him, head tilted to one side as Mohinder took the pen from him, analyzing. The attempt hadn't been bad--much better than Brian Davis' fledgling attempts--but it was nowhere near perfect. They could work on that, though.

"Good," he offered. And then, since it seemed like the science talk helped Mohinder grasp things better than colorful metaphors, he added, "It's just a matter of perfecting it now. Adjusting the polarity."

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Mohinder nodded, far happier with that expression than this talk of imaginary magnets and marionette strings.

"Another go, then?" He questioned, the guarded and grumpy side of his personality fading away quickly now that he had had his first success. Whilst the feeling that his breakthrough was being taken away from him was still there, the fact that he was progressing helped to dim that insecurity.

It was something he could talk about later, maybe. If he was feeling particularly sharing.

[heroslayer]

He nodded, reaching out his own fingers to take the pen back. For a moment, he twisted it in his fingers, as if it held some sort of secret he could, and would, impart to Suresh. But the moment, whatever it was, was quick to fade, and then he was offering Mohinder the pen at a distance again.

"Take two."

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

The second time was smoother, though still far from perfect or casual. Every ounce of Mohinder's concentration still had to be spent, to make that pen twitch in Sylar's palm, and whilst thinking about it all in terms of polarity and forcefields helped, the pen's movement into his own hand was still skittish. A little out of control.

This time, it was the direction, rather than the speed, that was off. The pen flew to a spot a few inches to the right of Mohinder's open hand, and he had to lunge to grab it before it fell to the floor. Still, he got it that far.

It was a start.

[heroslayer]

"It gets easier," he assured him, hand ready to take the pen back, if Mohinder wanted him to. "It takes time. Repetition. Just like anything."

Or just like anything for anyone else, anyway. With him, the knowledge just came innately, neural pathways forged in the instant he took the power, and fine tuned over the next few hours. In that case, Suresh was right--he wasn't like him--but unless the geneticist somehow managed to steal his aptitude, they would both have to be patient.

"That was better, though." A pause, and then, "It looked easier." Despite the fact that Mohinder hadn't quite perfected it, it was a start.

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

"A little," he conceded, keeping the pen in his own hand despite Sylar's actions. His stubborn grumpiness of earlier was giving way to a grim determination, an obsession to get this right no matter how hard it was.

Eyes focused on the pen in his palm, he moved the imaginary magnet to the ceiling. He let his mind fill with the idea of the magnetic field, imagined the ceiling drawing the pen upwards. And, slowly and jerkily, the pen did begin to move. He even managed to hold it steady, for just a moment, at eye level. But just doing that was enough to exhaust him, mentally, and after only a couple of seconds the pen fell back into his outstretched palm.

[heroslayer]

Sylar quirked an eyebrow, watching him. Suresh looked exhausted, strained in much the same way Brian Davis had, trying to shuffle a cup across the table of his workshop, ages ago, and yet he'd pressed forward. Moved on to something slightly more difficult and managed it, despite his obvious wear. It was both unexpected and, considering the fact that he'd done it, impressive--no matter how shuddering the gesture had been.

"Very good, Mohinder," he said, unable to keep the wonder from his tone. It was a very good thing indeed Sylar was already telekinetic, or else they might be having problems.

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Mohinder allowed himself a small smile at the compliment, before turning his gaze up towards Sylar.

"My head's aching," he told him, but it was not a complaint. More an observation. He had never truly realised, before all this started, how much effort these powers took to control. Sylar's Intuitive Aptitude? Only now was Mohinder really grasping just how special that was, as a power. To bypass all this learning, these growing pains, and just be able to make your ability work... that would be a blessing, indeed.

[heroslayer]

He hummed acceptance of the statement, moving to bury his fingers in the geneticist's curls to soothe his headache.

"It happens," he told him, quietly. Or at least it happened to people who weren't him, from what he understood, just as he knew that it would pass with time. "It'll pass."

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

"But I don't have time to wait for it to 'pass'," Mohinder retorted, almost whined. "I'm not like you. I don't have months or weeks or even days. If I'm going to learn to control this power, I have to do it now."

The more he thought about the situation in those terms, the more bogged down in misery he became. What was the point in any of this if, by the time he had learnt to master his new power, it was gone? He might as well not bother at all. Or else he had to find a way to isolate the specific genetic building blocks of the ability, so he could keep himself dosed up on one ability alone, rather than randomly gaining something new each time.

Either way, he needed to do something more than he already was. And the knowledge of that just made his head hurt all the more.