Chapter Three

Trapped

Mohinder awoke from a warm, pleasant dream. As his awareness of the early morning stirred, he could still feel the arms of a lover wrapped tenderly around him… it was uncanny how this dream's sensation lingered, even solidified as he felt more awake.

It suddenly dawned on Mohinder that there really was a warm body breathing evenly next to his. In an instant he was completely awake, racking his brain for a second… had he been drunk? Or picked up a random bedfellow in his half-conscious insomniatic state?

Mohinder lay facing his closet and this stranger was lying behind him, body pressed close enough for it to be clear that this stranger was male… his arm draped over Mohinder's waist. Nothing in the room was distorted to his view, and there was no way of telling the identity of this man without turning completely around and almost certainly waking him.

As his mind raced, he couldn't figure it out and fear ran through his veins like ice. He was afraid to move, afraid to wake this anonymous guy in his bed, but he couldn't just lie there forever, and moving was his only chance of getting away before this man – who was obviously some sort of psycho – woke up. Beneath his panicked ambivalence he kept on trying to name this stranger, and a spark of curiosity now intermingled with his decision to stay or try escaping.

After what seemed like a lifetime of indecision, Mohinder shifted very, very slowly, making for his edge of the bed. But he felt his heart stop as the arm tightened around his waist, and a voice whispered in his ear, "Morning, Doctor Suresh. And just where do you think you're going?"

Mohinder knew that voice, but he couldn't believe it. He turned slowly to face his captor.

Sylar.

Mohinder stammered, "Y-you – how…"

"Sssh," Sylar smirked at his bewildered expression, "Now's not the time for asking questions. Go shower, get dressed, and we'll go."

"Wha – but where? What are you doing here – what do you want from me?"

"See now, those are just more questions." Sylar said, as if pointing out some silly quirk, "Now go get ready. Unless, you'd like to spend some more time in bed…" he suggestively leaned in, almost nibbling on Mohinder's neck, expecting him to start and jump out of bed. Surprisingly, Mohinder stayed still just a second longer than Sylar anticipated, and Sylar's lips grazed Mohinder's dark skin.

Mohinder sat up suddenly, feeling a lump in his throat. Trying to ignore the goosebumps on his skin, he threw his legs over the bed, the covers still saving some of his dignity. He looked back at Sylar, who was leaning on his side with an indecipherable look on his face.

"Um," Mohinder felt his face flush, "Do you mind turning around?"

Now looking deeply amused, Sylar asked, "Why?"

"Well, I sleep in the nude so –"

"I know." Sylar said with finality. Mohinder knew from his tone there would be no compromise. He didn't mind showing his body, but this total lack of decorum grated him.

Feeling very, very watched, Mohinder stood and walked to the bathroom. As the door closed, Sylar fell back on the pillows, grinning.

As the hot water ran over his body, Mohinder was still grappling with the idea of Sylar in his bed. He felt an odd mixture of fear and giddiness. Those lips on his neck were nearly enough to make him forget that Sylar was… who he was. Not only a crush in Mohinder's imagination, but in reality, incredibly dangerous, not to mention batshit crazy on top of it.

He knew there was no way of escape from the bathroom – the single window was burglar-barred. And was it worth it to try escaping, even when the chance presented itself? Despite the fact that he'd spent all his free time over the last few months daydreaming that Sylar would show up at his door and proclaim his undying love, there was also the practical problem that with his arsenal of powers and apparent lack of conscience, Sylar was certainly not a man you'd want to aggravate if given the choice.

But to stay? What would that mean? Was Sylar simply toying with him, trying to get information before he killed him, or was this something else? Did Sylar need Mohinder's capacities as a scientist, or as bait to draw someone else out of hiding, probably Peter or Claire?

Or would he simply be a sex slave until Sylar got bored… Mohinder's heart chilled at the very thought of it.

None of the reasons Sylar wanted Mohinder were very appealing, and yet he was surprisingly calm as he got out of the shower. Perhaps it was because he had nothing left to lose, was so weary from the last few months that he hadn't the energy to plan a great escape, but as he went back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist, all he could think of was that he was going to play along.

He just hoped Sylar wouldn't be too horrible to him.