Warnings: Slash. Yaoi. Sex. Mentioned Rape. Mpreg.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sylar or Mohinder, Zachary Quinto or Sendhil Ramamurthy. Tom Kring owns Heroes, Sylar and Mohinder, and his own genius. Sendhil and Zachary own themselves.
Inspiration: Series three, episode one. When Mohinder injects himself with the formula.
Mood: Relieved
Music: H.I.M and Jeffree Star
A/N: I'm sorry it took a while. And I'm sorry its so short. But, I promise, the next chapter will be longer. And I will have it posted before my week holiday is over.
Please read and comment. And I gives you cookies.
Chapter One
Mohinder shot-up from the bed for the second time that day. Perspiration dripping from his forehead as he looked around. He was in that bedroom again. The room with the cream coloured walls. The room with the dark, wooden furniture. The room with the king-sized bed that he lay in. The room with the beautiful painted portrait of the Arc Angel Gabriel that hung above the bed. The room that belonged to Sylar.
A loud banging sound alerted Mohinder's attention and made him spin his head around to the direction of the noise. As he faced the door, he was met, again, with a sight he thought the would never have seen.
Gabriel walked through the door; clothed in plain, grey slacks and a white, button-up shirt and dark blue tee-shirt pulled over the top of it. His hair slicked back. He was carrying a tray; with a China bowl and a glass on-top of it. And also a small box.
Gabriel wandered over to the bed, placing the tray on the bed-side stand and motioned to sit on the bed, until Monhinder skidded away.
"Hey. What's wrong, Mohinder?" Gabriel asked, worry covering his face.
Mohinder just stared at him. This must have been a joke. It had to be. This man with worry in his deep Brown eye; was the same man who killed many others with powers, just for the simple pleasure of becoming the world's strongest human being. And now here he was; being a perfectly normal, everyday New Yorker.
"What do you want, Sylar?" Mohinder questioned, still putting distance between the two of them. He would not give Sylar the chance to get him.
"Heh," Gabriel had small smile on his face, "Mohinder you don't need to fear me. I was the one who helped you. I could have left you on the docks to die, but I didn't. And really, if I was going to kill you; I would have done it already." The smile never went from his face, but that last sentence was Sylar speaking.
"Now, Mohinder" The voice of the Angel said, "You're going to eat. And get some fluids in you. Then you're going to take the medication that's in the box. Don't worry, it won't kill you. It's just to help lower your temperature. And when I get back, I expect you to be asleep. Okay, Mohinder?"
All Mohinder could do was nod, dumbly. This was definitely a dream; he was sure of it. His temperature was making him have delusional dreams where Gabriel Gray had never become Sylar.
Returning to his apartment, Sylar walked through the door drenched from the falling rain. Shuffling off his heavy trench coat, Sylar wandered towards the darkened bedroom....