Famous Last Words

[splice_of_life]

"And the way I can feel you...its...I never want to lose that."

Mohinder wakes with a start and stares up at the ceiling. Those weird dreams again. They need to stop. They're starting to affect his ability to do his job. Well, not that he'd slept much these five years since Sylar blew up. The alarm goes off a moment later and he pulls himself to his feet.

Another day in the lab. Another report due. A meeting with the president that afternoon? He'd have to check his schedule.

He's in the shower when he gets the call. That meeting with the president? Moved up to a breakfast briefing. Mohinder groans and slips on a silver and lapis lazuli ring before he heads down to the waiting limo.

Comments

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Jesus!" Peter stops the bullet, both bullets, easily and swipes the gun from his hand. "What the hell, Matt?!"

His brother saved him for THIS of all things?  What's happened to the people here?  What's happened to the world outside of Las Vegas?  Peter has come to accept the insanity there, but really--

"What's going on?!"

A good question to ask, seeing as how Mohinder's next to him. He's never seen the professor move so fast!

[mentalmastery.livejournal.com]

Peter's a bad guy, a terrorist -- no better than Hiro, even if he hasn't seen the both of them together just yet for that to become less assumption and more fact. He's the one that destroyed Kirby Plaza, and while Sylar's face was all over the news for it, it's Peter's head that should be on a plate. Doubly so, maybe, since the explosion didn't truly claim his life.

Regardless of all that, though, Matt still sees fit to warn him. "Get away from him, Peter. Unless you wanna end up a walking bottomless beer special."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"An endless WHAT--" Peter puts himself between Mohinder and Matt. He's got no idea of the danger. His blood, like Sylar's is utterly unique. The scent is almost too much and he finds himself hanging back. He doesn't want to hurt Peter, not now that he knows he's alive. 

Holding out his hand, he strides towards Matt and waits for an explanation. It's just enough distraction for Mohinder to run. 

Sylar is President. He must be close by--  Yes. Yes he can feel him!

[mentalmastery.livejournal.com]

Matt pushes past him, swearing, and breaks into a run, trying futilely to catch up with Mohinder. He stops when he reaches the stairs, not sure if the Indian went up or down -- logic dictates down, but who knows if Mohinder can fly or turn into a bat or whatever, so logic may not apply here -- but he's not out for the count just yet. He reaches out en mass, touching everyone in the building as he did when he ordered them to ignore the suddenly lax security, and turns them hostile. If they find Mohinder, they'll stop him if they can.

He tries not to think about the fact that he may very well be out of the building already.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Mohinder stands outside by the oak tree, eyes closed and just trying to feel along the bond for signs of Sylar. He catches his dreams and the unnatural sleep and pushes straight into them without realizing that he even can.

"Wake up. You have to let me in"

[heroslayer]

Sylar's dream space is confused and wrong, somehow, for more than the fact that it's like looking through a kaleidoscope, his office in the city superimposed over Manhattan's skyline, superimposed over something else. Something green and sharp and twisted.

He doesn't seem to notice, though. He just turns around and looks at him, his brow furrowing. "How did you -- this isn't -- what?"

He's understandably addled, both from withdrawal and from Matt forcing him in here.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Mohinder picks his way around broken glass to stand in front of Sylar-As-Zane. It's creepy. He tries to ignore how off putting all of this is, though.

"Your boyfriend is trying to kill me. I need you to let me."

[heroslayer]

He settles, just barely, and the area around them seems to settle a touch, too. Staring too long at the sky or the ground or anything really is still enough to make one nauseated, but there seems to be a little more cohesion to everything now, though it's hard to say how.

"I'm not sure I can. I'm not sure I can wake up." He pauses, shaking his head. "He should have been able to do that, you know. Get inside my head like this."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder frowns openly. "His power is the strongest there is. He can make us do or say or even think any way he wants us to. He's just trying to protect you, which is admirable, but I'd like to survive the day. You have to try to trick him. You have to-- maybe there's a work around. Just give me permission to enter your home!"

[heroslayer]

"Mine is his," he says cryptically, frowning back. "It shouldn't be possible."

He sits down in the glass, though it doesn't seem to cut him. If anything, it shies away from where he touches or almost touches it. That alone is a comfort somehow. "But whatever. I'll try. We did this once before, I think. I think I remember being trapped here once before, but it wasn't like this."

The glass on the ground flickers briefly, threatening to disappear to be consumed by the parts of this place that are New York, then settle again. It's a shame he likely won't remember this when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder has absolutely no idea what Sylar is talking about until he turns to look at the fridge. There are pictures there of he and Sylar. Things that had never happened. Things that filled him with calm and with dread. "This is our--"

But the doorknob turns in his hand. The silent alarm goes off. Mohinder doesn't stop. He races upstairs and bends over Sylar, tears in his eyes.

"This isn't how it's suppose to be," he moans quietly. Matt's likely figured all of this out by now. And the alarm trip at his apartment proves it.

[heroslayer]

Sylar remains still, his breathing labored, and filmed in a thin coat of sweat. Closed eyelids flutter erratically as he fights against Matt's influence, against what shouldn't be, and he shifts every few seconds fitfully, starting to reach for the edge of the bathtub Matt left him in only to shy away as the pain of not having him in his system wreaks havoc on his body.

To his credit, though, he must have invited Mohinder in for him to be here at all, the words slurred through sleep but still there. He's making progress, just not fast enough if the sound of a car pulling up outside is any indication.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder isn''t going to argue until they are far enough away. That is, if Sylar will even go. First things first. Sylar needs strength. So. He opens his veins, letting the other man take what he wants.

Its probably too much. Mohinder's actually feeling a little lightheaded. Panting, rock hard and licking his own blood from the corners of Sylar's lips, he knows they cant stay too long. He reaches into the tub to tug Sylar up when he hears the shot. Automatically, he dodges the bullet only to hear a faint, wet, awful sound . "No!"

Mohinder's dodge is Sylar's undoing.

[heroslayer]

As before, Sylar is unresponsive when Mohinder's wrist first touches to his lips, precious blood seemigly wasted as it pools in his mouth and runs down the sides of his face. This time, however, and likely because he's simply unconscious and not hovering at death's door, his reflexes are still intact, and before too long, he swallows down a mouthful of blood, his body making the effort to keep him from choking on it. The tension in his body fades instantly, as does Matt's influence over him, and his eyes snap open finally. He stares up at Mohinder, his expression understanding but lacking the fondness Mohinder remembers now, even as his fingers close around his wrist to keep it at his mouth so he can drink and greedily.

He doesn't recall their conversation in his head, or the life before this, but there will be time for all that later, once they've escaped Matt, and his body responds well enough even without the memories, his skin heated, his slacks far too tight by the time Mohinder finally pulls away. He catches Mohinder's tongue between his lips as he laps at them, and draws it into his mouth, not thinking too hard about what he's doing, just suddenly as ravenous for him as he was for his blood a moment ago or Matt just nights ago. He slips his tongue under his and guides it up to his teeth, pressing it flush against them, against the sharpness that's far more obvious now that he's had such a large dose of Mohinder's blood, and all but whimpers when starts to pull away to get him to his feet. He doesn't want to go. Not yet. Not until he's taken from his body as well as his blood.

The sound dies in his throat a moment later, his face half-imploding as a neat ring of red appears between his eyes. He sinks back into the bathtub, staring sightlessly at Matt over Mohinder's shoulder.

Matt hesitates for the briefest instant, grieving, and then aims his gun at Mohinder again and takes another shot. If the other night when all this madness began is any indication, he figures Sylar will be back on his feet soon enough, and his assailant, his dealer, his whatever needs to be dead before then. This can't go on.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Teleporting has it's benefits and Peter arrives just a moment after Matt pumps the rest of his clip into Mohinder's head. No more guns for Matt Parkman, Peter decides, melting the plastic glock as he grabs at it. He's got this terrible look in his eyes, the sort that says he's confused and absolutely horrified by what he's seen here. Peter pushes further into the room and tries to pick up thought patterns and then his hands on nurse's training kicks in and fingers play against skin for pulses.

He's actually amazed to find them. Not as amazed as he is to find Mohinder half in the tub over a seemingly dead Sylar.

Peter's eyes widen as he backs right up into Matt and jumps, startled. "Sylar-- You... Sylar-- But he--"

[heroslayer]

"Yeah, well, you were supposed to be dead, too," Matt practically spits as he drops the ruined remains of his weapon.

Resisting the urge to take out his frustration on the thing and kick it, he takes a deep breath instead, and moves past Peter to the bathtub. It's a little harder to resist doing the same to Mohinder, but he manages, hooking his hands under his arms to pull him off of Sylar and dump him on the floor. He's about to reach for his cuffs, to bind the Indian, as little good as it will likely do when he wakes up, assuming he hasn't got him chained out on the front lawn to wait for the sunrise by then, when a hand clamps down on his shoulder. He starts, glancing back over it, and he barely has the time to get a good look at Sylar, awake and alert, and the horrible blackness of his eyes, before the other man darts in, burying his teeth (oh, God, fangs) in his throat.

He has half a moment to wish he could scream after the pain starts before it consumes him.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter hadn't gotten feed back from Matt in a long time. They'd barely known each other when the disaster at Kirby Plaza took place, wiping Manhattan clear off the map. Now, he's almost stunned by it, and worse, by the fear that courses through his veins. It's crippling.

Grabbing his head, Peter falls to his knees, growling as he tries his best to fight unconsciousness. It's not easy.

While Peter falls, Mohinder coughs up the bullets again and, smelling blood in the air, looks up to see Sylar almost gently cradling his lover in his arms. Matt does nothing but twitch periodically.

[heroslayer]

Sylar can sense Mohinder's eyes on him and he shifts Parkman in his arms so that he meet the look with one of his own without having to take his mouth away from Matt's throat. He remembers now, remembers everything, that much clear in so much more than the way he looks at him, but in spite of that, in spite of having sworn off murder for the most part and knowing it now, he's killing Matt. He has no sense of self-control, too ravenous to think clearly enough to stop.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

As jealous as Mohinder is of Sylar and of Matt, he can't let Sylar kill the other man. They didn't know. They had no way of knowing. Mohinder scampers into the tub again and splits his finger, giving Sylar the option to switch to something sweeter.

"Sylar, please, let go. Let go, he's mine and you can have this."

It's imperfect, but Mohinder knows he'd never go against John's wishes. He can only hope that Sylar will listen to him.

[heroslayer]

Reluctantly, the former killer pulls away, though not before tonguing at the wounds in Matt's throat one last time. He lets out a heavy, shuddering sigh and licks at his lips, radiating pleasure in spite of the fact that he was told to stop. Matt's blood was fantastic.

That high is muted somewhat by the offer of Mohinder's blood, however. He shakes his head. "You already gave me too much. I can ... feel it in you. I shouldn't take any more. I don't want to hurt you."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder nods, mostly because he really is having trouble seeing straight, and wraps his arms around Matt. The man's not dead, his breathing is just very shallow. He'll need to rest.

When Peter lifts his head again, groaning all the while, he looks over at the strange scene in the bathtub and smirks. "I think I really hate you guys," he teases, shaking the pain and fear from his head.

He knows who he is. And he's got a good handle on just how wrong all of this is.

"When did vampires start existing?!"

[heroslayer]

"Sometime last reality," Sylar answers, glancing back at Matt briefly, before turning his attentions to the bottle of hand soap on the counter half the room away. He holds out a hand, reaching for it, and it jumps into his outstretched fingers without effort. His powers are still intact; Mohinder can likely feel his relief. "Mohinder was stuck there for three months before I showed up and made friends with one. It's kind of a long story."

And not his to tell, even if he knows the whole thing backwards and forwards, through Mohinder now.

"Speaking of," he continues, even as he presses his fingers to Matt's throat to push healing warmth at him, "where the hell were you two?"

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"With Nathan," Peter says, not bothering to look ashamed. "I was at least. I thought.. I thought I had another chance."

Mohinder can understand that. Before he and Sylar had ended up with John, they'd hoped to run away too. Far, far away. Far enough that they'd not be taken out of their world again.

It hadn't worked.

Mohinder lightly strokes Matt's hair as he stirs, as Sylar heals him, though his eyes are fixated on the other man-- Other vampire. He's shocked. He's enthralled. And he's heartbroken. Now that he knows what he's missing, now that he understands the tugging, he can't unfeel it.

John's gone.

[heroslayer]

Sylar pushes his free hand into Mohinder's hair, fingers threading through it in an effort to comfort him -- to comfort the both of them, the void in Mohinder's heart his too as closely tied as they are now. He drops his other hand on top of Mohinder's when he feels the wounds in Matt's throat close finally and entirely, and looks back at Peter, popping a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. He can't blame him for wanting to spend time with Nathan, even if a part of him is hurt that he didn't come looking for him when he's blood, too.

Matt, in the meantime, groans softly and tries to sit up when he comes to. He doesn't make it very far, in one piece again but entirely disoriented from waking up on the floor, the events that lead to that, and the fever dream of memories that assaulted him in the interim.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Keeping Matt down and against his chest, Mohinder comforts him softly with a: "Sśśśa, cupa rahō," and a light stroking of his stubbled cheek. Matt, for his part, lets his eyes roll back in his head as his eyelashes flutter closed for just a second.

"I feel like I've been run over," he admits, sheepishly, trying not to think about how he's not just tangled up with Mohinder, but Sylar too. Or that he has memories of years of sex with the other man too.

That's just awkward.