Splice of Life: Reality Evolution

"The Broken Shard"
Who: Mohinder, Sylar, rest of the standard crew

Everything hurts and the last time that Mohinder wants to do is open his eyes.  Still, he can't help but do it when the light becomes bright enough to make him curious.  What happened?  He remembered crying into his hands in the bathroom like a child and now--  well, now he's just not sure where he is.

Sitting up slowly, he presses the palm of his hand against one eye and opens the other.  The wallpaper is tan and dark red, stripped.  Fairly masculine but still vibrant.  It's not something he would have chosen, pattern wise, but it's lovely just the same.  The sheets are silk against his bare skin.  The heavy quilt is Indian, embroidered in gold.  There's an elephant lamp in the corner and he focuses on that first and then the shape of the room.

This is his apartment in Brooklyn.  Beside him, a large lump moves.  He looks down at the broad shoulder and then the ear and the side burn--  "Matt--"

"Mohinder!  I spilled the milk!"  A small form pushes open the door and climbs up into bed with him, curling up between him and Matt.  And Mohinder has no idea who that little girl is.

"The Older Twin"
Who: Mohinder, Sylar...Mohinder...

"Yes, you got it very wrong," Mohinder says softly and sinks back against Gabriel before Paul can do more than look upset.

He opens and closes his mouth and shoves his hands into the pockets of his really hideous sweater.  His gran had knitted it for him two years ago for Christmas.  Mohinder use to steal it all the time.  He's wear it around their flat, he'd sleep in it when he could get away with wearing anything at all.  He was still staring at it when he heard his voice call out for the blond seconds before a version of him twelve years younger appeared around the corner.  "Paul, did you pay or should I--"

Awkward!

"No Rest For The Wicked"
Who: Mohinder, Sylar, etc

Two days later and Mohinder has his lab for the very small fee of having to offer a lecture to an old colleague's class at the university on the evolution of human genetics.  He just has to promise not to go far too into it.  Whatever that means.  Mohinder will behave himself, however.  He needs access to the equipment if he's to use Sylar's blood against his own to discover the marker that will allow him to find others like Sylar.

"Quite romantic," he says, calling the man up at his shop, hardly knowing that Gabriel's being watched now by people he might have worked for if the man hadn't come back in time for him, "but would you care for sandwiches at NYU?  We've a choice of turkey and ham with far too much cheese."

"Red Handed"
Who: Mohinder, Sylar, etc
Notes: Occurs just after this thread.


Mohinder's in the kitchen, singing to the plants and cooking.  With Sylar staying, he's had something else to do.  To occupy his time, to give him reason.  He's already given Molly a call, kept in touch, and she's sitting in well with his mother.  "She took me to get fitted for a sari!" she gushed just that morning.  She also has been asking after Matt, but the man's on some goose chase for...well.  He doesn't know.

Sylar's gone out for more milk and some bread that actually smells like bread and Mohinder ought to have known better than to expect that it's his lover that's coming through the door.

I hope you're hungry!

Well, Sylar is a telepath now.  And Mohinder rather likes how intimate it feels to think his conversations.

"Legacy"
Who:  Mohinder, Sylar, Peter

"Jesus!"  Bodies.  Just bodies.  People on the streets had just collapsed where they were walking.  Children playing on their lawns, men and women pumping gas--  They'd just collapsed.

Mohinder stops jumping every time Peter makes some sort of comment.  They'd packed up the car and gotten Sylar comfortable in the backseat with plenty of water.  Mohinder had done his best not to look around as they cleared out of Pinehearst.  There had been dead everywhere.  But no looting.  In fact, as soon as the doors were opened, everyone still alive just ran.  Stupid.  Stupid idiots.  They'd never make it.

As they head out of Jersey, the car accidents get worse and when the tunnel comes into view, Mohinder and Peter have to keep getting out of the truck to move abandoned cars.  And some not so abandoned ones.

They're pushing a van out of the way when Mohinder pauses, hands shaking.  "What if we don't make it?  What if it's already too late?"

The going was slow. 

"One Petrelli.  Two Petrellis.  Three Petrellis.  Four?"
Who: Mohinder, Sylar, Peter, Arthur, Luke


Mohinder's left alone for most of the morning after Arthur reveals that there is a formula for a similar serum to one that Mohinder had worked on that has, in the past, worked before.  He's also been given an assistant, a young man from Newark somehow able to excite molecules in samples with something akin to microwaves.  It's not it exactly, but Mohinder finds it fascinating how his tea remains warm straight through until lunch, the cup it's in staying relatively insulated.  It's almost as if he can pick and choose the sorts of things he wants to heat or cause to create friction in. 

Arthur, with Sylar on his heels like the man's new guard dog, comes down to visit Mohinder just after the Indian's had his lunch with Luke.  He speaks mostly pleasantries before Mohinder makes his case about Peter.  "I'd like to simply test his blood first, Peter's.  If I can cause the agent to bind to the DNA in his blood, there's real hope that I can tailor the serum for him completely.  I may even be able to restore his powers."

"Didn't Ask For Help"
Who: Mohinder, Matt, Peter

Stirring, Mohinder rolls onto his back and rubs the back of one hand against his eyes.  He can hear voices and for a moment, he's sure that Sylar's left the television on again.  He actually smiles, ever so slightly, and moves his other arm across the sheets only to realize he's alone.  Sort of.  Those voices are familiar.

"The car's gone."  That's Peter.  Mohinder stiffens at once, not opening his eyes and falling still again.  They'll likely know he's awake in a minute, but he prefers to play it out as long as possible.

"And Sylar?"

"Gone too."

There's relief in Mohinder's next sigh.  Likely, it gives him away.

"What You Make Of Me"
Who: Sylar and Mohinder


The dizzying flurry of colours is more shocking than the rest.  Mohinder's breath catches in his throat as he's blinded by his hair for just a moment and his shirt is tossed right over Sylar's shoulder.  With both hands free, for the moment at least, he pulls and tugs at cheap plastic buttons, reigning himself in before he can ruin them in his haste.  As it had been with Bridget, or with following Sylar from Brooklyn to Queens or even getting in his car to head to Pinehearst's headquarters, Mohinder's philosphy seemed really very simple.

Do it.  Do it now.  Don't think about it. 

It's too dark in the room for his scars to show, little nicks of paler skin along his ribs and arms and back, but they're raised just enough to be tangible.  And Mohinder wants them to be touched and traced.  Sylar put nearly all of them there himself over the past few months.

The buttons thwarting him, Mohinder curses under his breath.  "Help me with this."