Warnings: Slash. Yaoi. Sex. Mentioned Rape. Mpreg. Slight OOC.

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: Vexed and kinda happy

Musik/Film: Minor Threat ~ Straight Edge

Beta: Sir Aaron Fuera VIII

A/N: Oh my Frankie-sama! I got it written with a little less then three weeks to spare for my deadline! I'm proud of myself!

There's racist comments in this chapter. I am not racist- Please do not think I am. Pwease?

Sank-yuu's too the white winged angel. Who sent me ideas for the title. *Gives cookies*

Chapter Three

It had been a week since Mohinder's anecdotal nightmare.

During that painfully slow week, Mohinder has been alone.

Mohinder grabbed a-hold of Gabriel's shoulders, gripping them tightly. Scared to let go. The next thing that Mohinder did shocked the both of them. Mohinder buried his in the junction of Gabriel's neck and his shoulder. And sobbed.

Hesitantly, Gabriel gently wrapped his arms around Mohinder's back. He pulled the Indian closer. Letting him sob all he wanted.

After being embraced for, what Mohinder guessed, twenty minutes, he shuffled a little making Syler relinquish his hold of the darker man.

After a moment; Sylar stood up slowly, his arm lingering at Mohinder's shoulder until the last touch as he walked out of the bedroom, leaving the door as it was, and out of his own apartment. And leaving Mohinder half-sprawled on the bed. Nervous. And perplexed.

For the third night in a row; Mohinder was restless.

He couldn't stop thinking. He was continuously thinking about the last week and a half. Thinking about why he had to be so stupid and why he wanted to be like them. Why hadn't he had any symptoms that showed he was one of them? He didn't even know what his newly-forced abilities were or even if the formula had worked at all. His mind wouldn't shut down. And it was driving him insane.

Walking out into the kitchen, Mohinder stared at the small clock. 12.56AM was the time it displayed. "Looks like I'm not going to get much sleep tonight, either." He sighed. Looking around Sylar's kitchen; Mohinder's eyes settled on the jar of coffee. 'It's not like it would make much difference. Maybe if I drink enough of it; I will eventually pass-out and get some rest.'

Forgetting about the coffee, Mohinder ventured back into the bedroom and stood infront of the big window that was on the opposite side of Sylar's bed. It was practically black outside. No clouds. No stars. Just pitch black.

'I wonder what Sylar is doing. Will he even come back? He has too. After all, this is his apartment. He wouldn't just leave home and all of his possessions here and just disappear. Or... Woul-'

Mohinder's thoughts were abruptly ended by a loud shattering.

Shocked. Mohinder spun around hastily and ran out of the bedroom and into the direction of the sudden noise.

As Mohinder entered the main room of Sylar's home; he gasped. Mohinder gripped the door frame, stopping himself from going any further.

In the direction that Mohinder was looking; stood a man. He must have been in his mid to late twenties. His was a Dirty, Rusty Blonde colour. His shoulders were broad. He was wearing black jogging bottoms. A black, plain tee-shirt. And steel-toecap boots.

The man turned around. Staring straight in Mohinder's dark eyes and sending shivering all the way down his spine.

The man huffed. "I thought this flat was empty. Or, are you just ashamed to be a dirty immigrant?" He laughed, moving to Mohinder. Pulling a lock knife from one of his pockets and flips it out. "Come on then, slave. Get over to that wall." The man started swinging the knife around in an attempt to frighten Mohinder.

Not wanting to displease and make the man angry, Mohinder pushed his back flat against the wall with his shaking hands by his side.

"Ya'know," He said, 'playfully' dragging the small knife around Mohinder chest, "I coulda sworn I see a white boy leavin' this place a week ago. What's wrong? He not like you 'cause ya a fuckin' immigrant?" The man began laughing.

"No. Actually."

Both Mohinder and the man who broken turned their heads to the direction of the amused voice. Sylar was home.

He had changed his attire during the week he was gone. Mohinder briefly wondered where Sylar had acquired his current outfit: A black dress shirt; silk by the look and shine of it. Black dress pants. And a dinner jacket.

"I left here a week ago to go and see some important people. And now I'm back; I would like you to step away from my guest and come out side with me. So, we can sort this out like real men and not involve any unneeded bodies. Come on, Daniel. You're doing a wonderful job scaring my guest, but I would like to have a chat with you. A private chat." Sylar conversed, his slightly amused voice not wavering.

Huffing again; the man, Daniel, spoke. "I don't know how the fuck you know who I am. But, fine. You'll have this private chat you want. Mr. ?"

Sylar smirked. The shimmer of evil shone in his deep brown eyes. "You don't need to worry about my name. All you need to worry about is out private conversation. Now. Should we go?"

Daniel walked towards and out of the door. Followed by Sylar, who closed it telepathically.

Once the foot-steps had disappeared, Mohinder slid down the wall onto his bottom. Folding his arms over his head, Mohinder thought out loud; "Of course you're not going to need his name. You won't be alive long enough to use it.

Outside.

Sylar and Daniel had walked at a steady pace, deciding they would stop at the silent parking lot with was next to the block of apartments.

Daniel, who was infront of Sylar, began talking. "So, man with no name. What's your deal bringing me here? Ya planning on rapin' me then killin' me and dumpin' my body somewhere?" He laughed, turning around to meet Sylar.

"Oh. Something like that Daniel. Only; I won't be raping you. Just killing you and disposing of your useless body."

"What?" Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Your either joking. Or, your on somethin' and by what ya sayin'- It's gotta be good shit!"

"I never joke, Daniel. I'm quite serious, actually" And with that; Sylar pinned the broad man up with very little effort. The Brooklyn born man started from the right side of Daniel's forehead and slowing moved his pointed finger across, cutting the top of Daniel's head. The screams did not stop him. They never did. Never could. Sylar enjoyed hearing them too much.

Returning back to his home; the first sight that came into Gabriel's view was Mohinder. Lying on the wooden floor, asleep.

Picking him up, Gabriel wandered to his room. Placing the sleeping man on the bed and under the blankets. Gray switched on the lights and only minutes later, was asleep himself.