Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of these characters. Ah, if only...

This started as a short lead in then turned out to be over 700 words so I decided to just make it a prologue. I've been pretty inspired lately so I should be posting the chapters pretty quickly. Sadly ( or luckily depending on who you ask) I have no life. Please review, even if you hate it I want to know what I can do to make it better.

It had been months since the company had made Noah Bennett his partner. Months since he'd started the drug treatments. The suppressants that dulled his powers. That dulled everything for that matter. Once they'd determined the drugs were working they decided to move on to other methods of treatment.

Cue: The Sessions. The idea seemed absurd to him at first. Being locked in a room with that Haitian, bound to a chair (as if that could stop him), confessing his sins to that self-righteous Dr. Suresh and a tape recorder. But the more he thought about it the more he realized how fun this whole situation could be. Seeing the look on Mohinder's face as he described the way it felt cutting open their heads, seeing inside of them. How they worked. What made them tick, so to speak.

And that's how it went; at first. Every day he would be escorted to that room, to sit in that chair. That same uncomfortable chair every time. Two rather burly men would strap him in "for everyone's safety" they said. Ha. How does having leather straps cut into my wrists make me safe? He thought to himself. ThenMohinder would come in, looking partially scared, partially disgusted. He would take a seat at his desk and be sure to get every piece of paper straight and organized before even glancing across the room at Sylar. What was the point of him reforming if no one was going to trust him? He'd presented this point at the first session.

"The point is so that we can start trusting you. You can't just pretend to be compliant then expect everyone to believe that you've changed over night. You're not going to get away with that here." Mohinder had explained to him.

"Well then why should I trust you? You used to want to kill me, why shouldn't I think you still want to?" Sylar didn't really care whether the man sitting across from him wanted him dead or not. There was no way that could be accomplished anyway. This was just a way for him to defer the topic until he made Dr. Suresh angry enough that he left him alone.

"You shouldn't. I do still to, more than anything. But since I can't kill you, I'll just have to settle with torturing you instead. Now, here's how this is going to work: you are going to tell me every little thing about yourself, Gabriel." A look of disgust crossed Sylar brooding face at the mention of that name.

"You're going to tell me every detail about your life, your childhood, all your embarrassing secrets. Everything."

"And what exactly is that going to accomplish?" Sylar was staling for time.

"It's going to make you uncomfortable and I think I'm going to enjoy that quite a bit."

Sylar glared at him. Oh the things he would do if that damn Haitian wasn't in the room. Even with diminished powers he could still wreak havok with that mans internal organs, could still make him scream. His glare turned into a smirk as thought about it. He wasn't about to share anything along those very personal lines with the doctor. Sylar would tell him what he wanted to hear, make up some sob stories to make him think that he was having a breakthrough. But not before he replaced that smug look with one of disgust. He couldn't help himself, it was so easy. So fun.

After the first week or so the doctor had learned to disguise the pain and horror he felt every time Sylar mentioned one of his victims. Mohinder could tell by the way he smiled after sharing a particularly gruesome tidbit that he was just trying to get a reaction. Sure he was telling the truth, but it wasn't what he said it was the way he was saying it. Like he was putting on a show. Every time he tried to move the subject towards the past, about the watchmakers son, Sylar would come up with a new detail he'd forgotten to share about which body parts you could make twitch by touching which parts of the brain, or something equally disturbing that made the doctor wish for the hundredth time he wasn't the one sitting across from that chair. Even though some of the facts he shared were pretty interesting, in a strictly scientific way. If only these facts had been observed in a less tragic way.

By the third week Sylar had started to slip up. Every now and then he'd open up unintentionally and make some actual progress. He didn't know why they had the geneticist listening to him instead of some shrink, but he was glad Mohinder was there. For some reason it made it easier to open up. He knew that no one could truly understand him, but he felt like Mohinder might at least be able to get close. Not that he cared of course. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. He was starting to look forward to their sessions. It was still uncomfortable, talking, that chair, the restraints. It was bad enough him having to be physically vulnerable, but emotionally too? Gabriel had never been in control. He was the shy, scared little boy always looking for mommy's approval. Sylar didn't want to go back to that. To being that un-special Gabriel Gray. But that's exactly where Mohinder was trying to get him. Better an insecure man with mommy issues than a psychopathic serial killer. If he could get him back to that point, back to Gabriel, then they could deal with those issues and maybe he could be turned around. Get him on the side of good, so to speak. Or at least that's what the company was aiming for.