A/N: Two different stories, not really connected at all. First takes place after episode 23. The second doesn't take place after anything...
1. (Injured Sylar sneaks into Mohinder's apartment...unable to do anything really)
The darkness and silence of the room send Mohinder's drowsy mind reeling with confusion trying to figure out if he was still sleeping. The feeling of his stomach, cold tendrils of ice slithering through his veins and making him sweat, had him believing he was awake but that could just be part of the dream. It was a warm hand suddenly crossing his jaw, trapping sound and air that informed Mohinder of the reality of his situation.
He tasted warm, copper blood that dripped from the cool trembling hand causing his body to gag and heave. Sylar's gasping hiss for silence assaulted his ears and Mohinder stilled under the murderers hands. Sylar's strength faltered after a while, his hand trailing down Mohinder's jaw as he leaned heavily into the side of the couch. The dark head moved to rest against the cushions as Sylar's body shuddered coughing out blood onto the worn fabric.
Mohinder sat up the moment that hand left his chest, ready to bolt while the killer was distracted, but his eyes took him the trembling form, unable to bear its own weight and he stilled. Sylar was injured and could cause him no harm, though he still felt on edge watching that large, broken body rest against his father's couch. Sylar turned to let his back rest against the couch, his head falling back as he gasped with blood trailing out the corner of his mouth.
Once Sylar was still, Mohinder edged off the couch slowly watching intently for any reaction as he pushed his weary body into standing. His hand moved to the reassuring outline of his cell which he carried in his pockets at all times now. Sylar's head lulled to stare at him, too weak for any other motion, and clutched harder at the flowing wound in his chest. Mohinder felt nausea coil in his stomach as his eyes got clear view of the injury and he turned away feeling squeamish.
Sylar coughed again, curling in on himself, and Mohinder winced at the sight of blood spilling onto the floor. He moved over to the kitchenette to grab some towels and cautiously crouched by Sylar's still form. Sylar had his head cradled into his legs, bent over in such a painful looking position and Mohinder knew he was stretching that wound. Mohinder took Sylar's shoulders and pushed him back slowly, finally taking in his appearance up close.
Sylar's clothes were filthy and soaking wet, covered in a slime that made Mohinder recoil his hand in disgust. He was very surprised the man could even move, with the amount of blood drenching his clothes, but his whirling mind supplied that parasites usually don't die quickly. Mohinder paused in his pressing against the wound, which he had started unconsciously once Sylar was sitting upright, and recoiled from his father's killer.
He couldn't believe he was trying to help this man, the man who tried to kill him and murdered so many others. Mohinder's hand whipped out the cell phone, dialing the number's for the police when Sylar's hand clamped around his own.
"Don't." Sylar rasped his voice hoarse and lips spilling more blood onto his face.
Mohinder pulled his hand free from the grip, rather easily, and started dialing again. Sylar's hand gave a weak flick, telekinetically pulling the phone free from his hand but it dropped instantly to the ground at their feet. Sylar's hand fell limply into his lap and he clutched at his wound with the towel Mohinder had left behind.
"Why shouldn't I call them?" Mohinder hissed angrily, wanting to yell but not wanting to wake Molly.
"Please." Sylar's hand reached out for him but fell short, thumping uselessly onto the floor.
Mohinder watched the helpless man dab weakly at his chest; quickly losing the strength he must have used reaching the apartment, such a far distance from where he was stabbed. The sight wrenched at Mohinder's heart for he still couldn't rid his heart of the love he had for 'Zane' and the burning anger he felt subsided into cooling embers in his veins. He removed the towel from Sylar's limp grip and reapplied hard pressure to the wound, letting Sylar's head fall onto his shoulder as exhaustion overtook him.
The smallest whisper of cloth from the doorway had Mohinder glancing to see Molly wrapped tightly in a blanket peering in. Her face was calm; blinking away the sleep from her eyes as she padded to sit on the couch next to the two men crouched on the floor. She leaned against Mohinder's shoulder, silently peeing down at the man, and her hair trailed down Mohinder's neck.
"Will he be okay?" Her voice was quiet and the question startling.
"I don't know." Mohinder replied as Sylar coughed more blood.
"He's not so scary anymore." Molly admitted into his shoulder, brushing her tiny hand through Sylar's sweaty hair.
"No, he's not." Mohinder admitted, shifting his grip so his one arm could cradle Sylar's body and allow a more comfortable position to attend the wound. "Can you go get me the first aid kit?"
Molly nodded, padding lightly across the floor, her pale hair cascading in the light as she disappeared into the bathroom. Mohinder sighed tiredly, rubbing his free hand across Sylar's shoulder blades and feeling the murderer sigh in his slumber.
2. (A random thought that I wrote a while ago and haven't done anything with it. Kind of the middle of a scene)
"I knew you would come." Sylar smugly proclaimed, strolling forward to Mohinder's frozen body. "You just couldn't resist trying to be a hero, right Mohinder?"
Mohinder grit his teeth and glared, wishing he had some sort of eye laser power to blow the other man into smithereens. Since he didn't have that power he could only flinch back from Sylar's hand ghosting across his cheek.
"Really now, Mohinder, you should know by now that you can't do anything to stop me." Sylar purred leaning closer and smirking as Mohinder cringed away. "You'll only get hurt for trying."
To make good on his statement, Sylar brandished his hand like a knife and slashed telekinetically through Mohinder's shirt, tearing it off, and leaving trails of thin, stinging cuts across a heaving chest. Mohinder strained against the mental hold on his body but to no avail as Sylar bent over to lick a rivulet of blood up Mohinder's stomach.
Shuddering, Mohinder gasped in protest feeling waves of disgust and pleasure at the sensation of a warm tongue. "Stop Sylar…"
Sylar fixed his hypnotizing gaze onto Mohinder's face, trapping the breath in Mohinder's lungs. Blood coated lips curled into a smile, some dribbling down that prominent chin, as Sylar kissed brown, pouting lips gently.
"I know you really don't want me to stop." He showed off his sharp bloody teeth, and trailing a hand down to press against the bulge in Mohinder's pant. "You're getting off on being the victim just like last time."
Mohinder bit back a groan as that warm hand started massaging him, but Sylar could hear the sounds dying in his throat and chuckled cruelly. Mohinder yelped as Sylar bit down on his neck, hard enough to draw blood, and started sucking the wound teasingly to spurn groaning moans from Mohinder's betraying lips.
A/N: Mylar has taken over my school life...I write during classes more often now...Which isn't a very good thing. Oh well. (snicker)