Quinto Formaggi
Written by Anakin McFly
« Chapters 1–5
« Chapters 6–9
« Chapters 10–13
"...Mike?" Sasan asked. "What happened to you?"
"I know what you did," Mike said, his voice trembling. "I saw the bodies, I know that you-"
"What are you talking about?"
"YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Mike yelled.
Sasan slowly lowered the water tank, Smudge following his lead.
Sasan raised his hands in surrender. "I don't know what they've told you," he said to Mike. "But we're innocent. We didn't kill anyb-"
"I SAW THE BODIES!" Mike shouted. "They said you said that Sylar is dead, but if he's dead then who killed them, which means that you must have-"
"Mike, put down the gun," Sasan said carefully. "We didn't kill anybody."
"No," Mike said, his voice choking up. "You're lying. I know what you people are like-"
"'You people'?" Sasan repeated incredulously. "Look what they did to you! You're one of us-"
"NO!" Mike yelled, clutching the gun tighter. "I'm not. I'm not."
"Put down the gun and we'll go upstairs and talk this over-"
Mike shook his head.
"You're on the wrong side," Sasan said.
"Yeah. The side that doesn't kill people and cut their heads open."
"You're the one with the gun," Smudge said.
"I said I'd kill one of you," Mike said. "So they'll know I'm with them."
"You're one of us," Sasan said again, and the words gnawed at Mike's resolve, tempting him with images of family and belonging and safety and-
"NO!" Mike shouted.
The gun went off. Sasan cried out in pain and fell as the bullet tore through his leg-
Smudge screamed something and lunged at Mike; knocking him over and knocking the gun out of his hand; Mike lacking the will to put up much of a struggle, trying to get away in panic, and then Smudge delivered an angry punch that sent him unconscious onto the ground.
Smudge pulled away, breathing heavily.
"Smudge-"
Smudge turned and rushed to Sasan's side. "Sas!"
Sasan grimaced, pressing a hand down on the wound to try and stem the blood. "Leave him alone. He's been through enough. Get the others. Let them know what happened."
"Are you o-"
"I'll be fine."
"Can you walk?"
Sasan shook his head. "I might need the hospital. Just get the others."
"Okay."
"Leave the water. You can get that later."
Smudge nodded and ran up the escalator.
Sasan regarded the unconscious, injured Mike on the floor and leant his head back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut in pain. It'll be all right, he told himself. It's just one bullet. You're not going to d-
"Sasan, is it?"
His eyes flew open. Terror exploded in his mind.
Sylar smirked, rounding the corner. "It's hard to tell," he said, casually looking over the scene. "You all look the same to me."
#
Smudge ran through the dance floor past the hole and to the rooms; he threw the door open and hurtled in, startling Adam where he was trying to arrange the sandwiches, words spilling desperately out:
"Sasan is hurt and he needs help 'cos Mike shot him and he's bleeding and-"
"What happened?" Leo asked.
"You gotta come help-"
Adam glanced at the laptop screen, still displaying the feed from the base of the escalator; and Smudge saw the look on his face, and rushed over to the screen, his eyes widening as he saw that Sasan was no longer alone.
"NO!"
He made to lunge back out the door when Leo grabbed him.
"Smudge-"
"Let me GO! SYLAR'S THERE, HE'S GOING TO KILL HIM-"
"If you go down there he's going to kill you-"
"I DON'T CARE! SAS NEEDS ME!"
"He'll know where we are," Adam said tonelessly, still looking at the screen. "He'll kill you and then he'll kill us."
Smudge kicked, trying to struggle out of Leo's grasp.
"Smudge, listen-"
"WHAT ABOUT SAS?" Smudge hollered, tears forming in his eyes.
"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," Spock said quietly.
"NO! I can't leave him there, he's going to die, I can't-"
Smudge's gaze travelled to the screen and its camera feed, Sasan helplessly on the ground before the unwelcome visitor, speaking words he could not hear; and Smudge yelled in emphatic pain as a finger twitched and Sasan's head jerked back against the wall; and he tried again to run-
Leo wouldn't let him, hugging Smudge tight, trying to still the panicked limbs that beat against his body; the fear written on his own face and in the lifeless whispers he gave: Smudge, it's over, he's gone, he...
"No. NO! NO!"
And Smudge bit and fought amidst the tears until Adam had to help Leo hold him back, Smudge screaming futilely as he watched the unreachable events unfolding on the screen so near and yet so far away; pain piercing his heart with every unheard scream from Sasan; Sas needed him, he could help him, he didn't know how, he just needed to be there, he had to be there...
"He's coming," Adam said suddenly, as they saw Sylar abandon Sasan's still form and head calmly for the escalator. "He's coming up."
Smudge had dissolved into angry tears on Leo's shoulder; Spock had the presence of mind to quickly nip out and flick off the lights of the surrounding rooms and their own and give the quiet command to hide. Leo pulled Smudge under the table and tried to hush his sobs as they heard the footsteps get off the escalator and cross the floor.
Silence.
The footsteps stopped. Then they left.
Adam peered up at the laptop screen from where he crouched beneath the desk. Eventually he saw Sylar step off the foot of the escalator, pass Sasan, and leave.
Smudge started struggling again.
Adam stood up and slowly turned the lights back on.
"Okay," Leo whispered. "Okay." He let Smudge go.
Smudge stumbled desperately out the room, blinded by tears, clutching onto the escalator rail as he ran trippingly down it several steps at a time with no regard for his own safety.
"Sas-" he choked out as he half-fell off the last few steps onto the floor, crawling the last metre or so.
"Sas..." He gripped onto Sasan's hand, still warm, trembling as he looked up to the blood still streaming from the slit neck.
Eyes opened weakly to look at him.
"I'm here," Smudge gasped out, tears flowing freely. "I'm here, I'm sorry, I..."
He felt Sasan's fingers tighten briefly around his own.
Then the eyes shut, and the fingers went limp.
"No," Smudge said. "No. Sas... Sas!"
He grabbed for a pulse, his own racing. Fumbled with Sasan's wrist, feeling for the steady thrum of life... and found none.
The others came off the escalator and stood a respectful distance behind; and they watched in silence as Smudge broke out into the agonised screams of a newly broken heart.
#
A wall away, Sylar listened and felt nothing. No sadness, no triumph; nothing, save perhaps a faint bitter satisfaction in robbing one of them of the kind of companionship he would never have. But no... he was above that. They... they were just there for his amusement, all cooped up in their little room, thinking he did not know where they were. That was all they meant to him.
#
"Smudge."
A hand rested on his shoulder. He tried to shrug it off, but could not get up the will to do so.
"Smudge. C'mon. Let's go. We can't stay here."
Smudge weakly toyed with the idea that it was Sasan speaking; but his fatigued mind could not sustain the illusion for long against the reality to which he was clutching stubbornly, the fabric of Sasan's shirt wet against his closed eyelids.
"Smudge." Leo's voice came again, still patient.
"I wanna stay here," Smudge managed, refusing to open his eyes.
"He's gone, Smudge."
Smudge didn't reply, clutching on tighter to the still form.
Leo got up from the crouch and walked back to where Adam was regarding the unconscious Mike. He let out a quiet curse.
"What do we do with him?" Leo asked.
"He knows where we are," Spock said. "We can't risk him alerting others to our whereabouts."
"Can we even trust him?" Adam asked. "If he shot Sasan-"
"Without a weapon he is harmless. He poses a far lesser threat to us if we were to take him in than if we were to let him go; and, judging by his current condition, if we let him return, they might kill him."
Adam nodded. He looked over at Smudge. "He still won't let go?" he asked Leo.
"They were close."
"I noticed."
Silence.
"Okay, let's just take him up," Adam said, poking Mike with his shoe. "And get the water. Smudge, if you're staying here you might get killed."
"I don't care," came the muffled reply.
Adam sighed and gave up. He yanked Mike up. "Get his legs," he told Spock.
Leo had returned for a second attempt at getting Smudge away.
"It's not safe here," he said.
"I don't care," Smudge repeated distantly.
"Sasan wouldn't have wanted you to die. I think he cared enough about you to want you to stay safe and not put yourself in danger like this. If Sylar kills you too, what would you gain?"
Silence.
"He said I could go live with him," Smudge said softly. "He said maybe. No one else cares about me."
"We care. All of us. That's why we want you to be safe."
Smudge sniffed and wiped the back of his hand across his face.
"C'mon."
Smudge reluctantly let go of Sasan, gazing a few more moments at him through eyes too tired to continue crying; he remembered the times they had spent together: exploring their prison, escaping from angry superheroes, falling asleep together on the couch, making a video cooler than anything Adam could have done-
The video.
Smudge stuck a hand into Sasan's jeans pockets, feeling a temporary dread as the first turned out empty; until his fingers closed over the flash drive snug in his other side pocket and pulled it out.
Smudge clutched on tightly to it as he looked for the last time upon Sasan's face.
"I won't forget you," he promised in earnest decisiveness. "I won't."
He got up and slipped the flash drive into his own pocket. Leo silently put an arm around his shoulder and guided him back to the others, picking up the water tank and cups as they stepped onto the escalator.
Smudge glanced back for a final farewell as they ascended back up into safety. He felt the flash drive in his pocket, and gained confidence in its presence.
"Bye, Sas," he whispered, his voice shaking, and then the escalator lifted him out of sight.
#
The fog of unconsciousness raised itself from Mike's mind and he became aware that he was lying on a floor. Disoriented fragments of thought struggled to reform into coherent wholes amidst the painful throbbing on the side of his head and throughout most of the rest of his body.
Mike opened his eyes. He made out something which he recognised as a shoe; his gaze travelled up the accompanying leg and settled on the profile of a face intent on a computer screen. It looked familiar...
Something clicked.
With a jolt of horror, Mike scrambled to his feet, wincing at the pain – he'd been beaten up, he remembered now, by those guys, and then by that angry bisexual companion of the guy he'd shot. He collapsed unsteadily back against the wall to which he shrank in terror as the others in the room noticed his return to the conscious world...
His panicked eyes roved from face to familiar face; pulse speeding up, palms pressed back against the wall as he made out the door which suddenly seemed an infinity away; to wake up here, right in the middle of the enemy, smack in their hiding place with – frantically he checked himself but did not find the gun – no weapon.
"You're up," computer guy said in annoyed observation.
Mike looked back towards the door. Perhaps if he ran for-
Spock seemed to sense his intention and moved calmly to stand before the door.
Mike licked dry lips, breaths coming short. "Please don't kill me," he gasped. "Please don't-"
"You shot Sas!" the accusing voice came from the one Mike recognised as responsible for the pounding pain on his head, the fury in his eyes tempered with a wild, profound sadness. "You shot him-"
"Just in the leg," Mike pleaded. "It was just to-"
"HE DIED!" Smudge yelled. "Because of you, and if you hadn't shot him then I wouldn't have had to go and Sas would still be alive and we... we..." The outburst dissolved into tears.
"You okay, Mike?" Leo asked, and Mike found desperate solace in the unexpected kindness.
No, a part of his mind insisted. He's one of them too. He can't be trusted. None of them can. They're going to kill you. They took your gun. They-
Out of nowhere he remembered the promise he'd made to Elle: I'll be back.
"Mike?" Leo asked again, genuine concern on his face. "What did they do to you?"
Mike turned to speak but could not find the words; lost again in the overwhelming sense that he belonged here, among them; torn between the urge to just give in, and the atrocities he had seen which had been attributed to them. Why else would they have run if not out of guilt; why else claim a murderer dead when he was still alive-
He shook his head in reply, wanting a way out of the tumultuous confusion of his mind, just wanting things to make sense, and to be safe and not to die...
"Do they know we're here?" Adam asked.
Mike shook his head. "They said you killed people," he said weakly, almost hopefully, suddenly wanting so much to be proved wrong. He felt the pull to be included in this odd family; felt too his outsider status, wanting it if they turned out to be as thought, but even then, perhaps not...
Adam rolled his eyes. "And you believed them?" he asked. "They've been on our case since the beginning. We haven't done a thing to deserve it, other than being part of some guy's revenge fantasy because some serial killer pissed him off. And now they got you too. Perfect."
"But then... why are you hiding?" Mike asked.
"To get away from them," Leo said.
"And to get away from Sylar," Spock added. "Whom we have reason to suspect is only alive again because of you."
"What?"
"There was a room," Leo said. "It had a sign on it that said 'dead people and serial killer'-"
"Yeah," Mike said. "I saw that. But they were all dead-"
"One of them was Sylar," Leo said. "We killed him by sticking a knife into the back of his head. He has the ability to heal; without that knife he would have quickly recovered."
Mike felt a slow dread rise in him.
"Did you take out the knife?" Leo asked.
Mike blinked. "I thought... I didn't know..."
"Answer the question," Spock said.
Mike nodded.
Adam muttered some silent curse. "Why," he asked. "Why would you do that?"
"It looked painful..."
"He was dead!"
"I'm sorry-"
"Yeah," Adam said harshly. "Tell that to everyone Sylar killed since then. Tell that to Smudge, who's spent the whole morning sitting and crying in that corner because his boyfriend's dead, just because you thought that a knife in a dead body looked painful."
"I... I can help clear your names," Mike said. "I'll tell them it was my fault and-"
"Do you really think they'll listen to you?" Adam asked. "Look in the mirror. You're one of us. They hate us. I'm guessing it wasn't you who beat you up like that. They were using you, you played right into it, and you're not going back to them to screw it up further. I hope you like sandwiches."
Adam got up and stalked out the door.
Mike stood awkwardly beneath the gazes of the others and wished that he were somewhere else.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm really, really sorry..."
Smudge ignored him, curled up in the corner with his face buried in the pillows, his mind still struggling to come to terms with the giant emptiness he felt inside.
Leo came over and placed a hand on Mike's shoulder, guiding him out to the bathroom. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
"Personal log. Kenselton Hotel, second day since arrival. The events of this morning saw us lose yet another member of our party to the hands of the serial killer Sylar. It would appear that we are not as hidden as we may have thought, although the extent of Sylar's knowledge with regard to our present location remains unclear."
Adam lifted his head from the bar to listen to the clear voice dictating into the laptop.
"It seems that we are being held accountable for the various murders that transpired here last night. I cannot say for certain that they were the sole work of Sylar, but I am convinced of the innocence of all in our party."
Mike opened the door of the bathroom; light beamed out the doorway casting strange shadows onto the bar and against the half-alien figure who stood by the hole in the wall, laptop on the nearby table recording his every word.
"We are very far from home," the dictation continued with what sounded like a lapse in tone into something softer, "and while this place... this prison... offers much to learn, I am nonetheless wary of the possibility that we may not have that much longer to live."
Leo followed behind him and returned to the room. In the semi-darkness, Mike slid down the wall to sit, arms around his knees, trying to be unobtrusive. He looked hesitantly up at Adam in a silent plea for forgiveness, loyalties clashing in his mind:
"Can I trust you, Mike?" Yes. "Don't forget whose side you're on."
"They were using you," Adam had said. They were using him, and he played right into it. But they had sounded sincere and they had been good people. Anyone who wanted to put an end to the terrors he had seen had to be good people. Elle was a good person. They had trusted him, and he had betrayed them.
"Look in the mirror," Adam had said. "You're one of us."
The bar counter was polished on its side and gave a poor reflection when Mike looked at it. The dimly warped face that looked back at him could have been anyone. Any of them. Could have been Sylar.
Mike had to turn his head away.
#
Smudge was still in his corner with the pillows, curled up and facing the wall in silence.
Leo quietly walked over and sat down near his feet, against the wall.
A loose shoelace lay limp on the carpet below jeans scuffed with dried blood. Smudge's eyes were wide open and gazing at the wall in a kind of distant shock, his body heaving slightly with each ragged breath.
Leo wished there was something he could do. But there wasn't, and so he just sat there hoping that it helped, not knowing if Smudge was even aware of his presence-
Smudge stopped breathing.
Leo stared. Suddenly fearing the worst, he reached out-
"Hi, Leo."
"AAAGH!"
Dem looked dispassionately at him from where he'd materialised and was currently munching on chocolate. "This is good chocolate," Dem said appreciatively. "I stole some from a store. Of course, it wasn't really stealing seeing as how it was all free... Don't worry, he's not dead. I just stopped time again. Annoying thing, time. One needs to keep it in check now and then to show it who's boss."
"Did you do this?" Leo demanded, pointing at Smudge.
"Do what? Make the bisexual smudge depressed? I didn't do that. His friend dying did that. This is really good chocolate; you want some?"
"How did Sylar know where we were?" Leo asked, glaring in a way that made it clear that, no, he didn't want some chocolate.
"You're not exactly in some uber-secret place," Dem said. "And I may have assisted him a little."
"Why?"
"Sometimes I like being helpful," Dem said with a smile. He took another bite of chocolate. It released dopamine in his brain and made him happy.
"Why don't you just kill us all right now, then, if that's what you want?"
Dem shrugged. "Where's the fun in that? It would interest me just as much if you survive. I want to see how you do it. Sylar's just one guy. There are five of you. That seems rather unevenly matched in your favour. Of course, Adam's trying to get drunk at the bar, the Vulcan's making diary entries, Mike is being emo, the bisexual smudge is wallowing in grief and you are talking to a mysterious old man who just appeared out of nowhere. Not very impressive, I must say."
"What do you expect us to do?"
"I don't know," Dem admitted. He tossed a chocolate bar at Leo. "Give that to Smudge if you don't want it. You can't say I don't care-"
"Sasan was killed," Leo said. "Because you thought it would be a good idea to assist a serial killer. These are our lives you're playing with! Do you know how much he meant to Smudge?"
"People die every day," Dem said quietly. "On your planet, in your time, almost two every second. Over a hundred every minute. More than six thousand every hour. Over one hundred and fifty thousand every day. It is a privileged minority that has never had to deal with the premature loss of a loved one. Get some perspective. One day you will learn that some things are useless to fight."
"That doesn't mean we have to make it worse," Leo said.
"Human lives don't even make a blip on the radar of the cosmos," Dem said. "Your lifespans are so amazingly short when set against the eras of time. Recognise your insignificance, Leo. Sasan's death had no effect on a cosmic scale and even less on a multiversal scale when it comes to caring about things that matter."
"Smudge cares," Leo said. "We care."
"Negligible," Dem said. "You overestimate your importance in the grand scheme of things. It's a common human folly that some deities from various universes have also been known to engage in. Humans are but less than a speck. Individually they are a speck on a speck. Sometimes a Spock. Very entertaining specks, but specks nonetheless. Rise, fall, blow yourselves up; in the end, everyone else just moves on. Perspective, Leo. That's your lesson for today. Goodbye."
Dem vanished, and time started moving again.
Silence.
Leo placed a comforting hand on Smudge's side. Smudge blinked and turned his head slightly to look at him, his eyes searching the face which his mind told him was not Sasan but his heart wanted to believe otherwise.
"You'll get through this," Leo said quietly. "All right? No matter what happens. You're going to survive this and you're going to get out of this place and you're going to go home, Smudge. Do it for Sasan. Do it to show Sylar that he can't win so easily. Do it for yourself."
Smudge wiped a tear from his face. "I can't do it alone," he said.
"You'll have us. The five of us... we're going to make it all the way. Somehow. Together."
Silence.
"Things were going to be different," Smudge said in half-whisper. "I... I thought I'd run away and be with Sas. After we got back. And be happy. But now... if we get home, everything will just be normal again." He hesitated. "I don't know if I want that."
Leo picked up the chocolate bar and held it out. "Here," he said. "You'll be fine, all right?"
Smudge took the bar and unwrapped it. He took a bite. It was good chocolate.
#
It was all his fault, Mike realised, the guilt burning up the back of his neck. Everything Sylar had done wouldn't have happened if he hadn't pulled out that knife. Those bodies he had seen with their heads sliced open had been indirectly his doing. Sasan would be alive if it wasn't for him. He'd barely known Sasan; hadn't even known his name until now, just remembering him as the guy who had been playing chess with Spock, unaware that in a few hours he would be dead. He'd barely known him, but the loss weighed on his mind as though he'd just lost a close family member.
Noah shouldn't have trusted him. If he knew Mike was the only reason Sylar was still alive, the only reason everyone on this floor was being held guilty...
He didn't belong here. Not when he was the reason they had had to go into hiding, or the reason they were still being hunted. If not for him, Sylar would have stayed dead. There would have been no more of his signature murders. Noah Bennet and his friends would have left them alone. They would have proven their innocence. Sasan would be alive, as would all the other victims...
He could do nothing here, Mike thought, getting up from the floor. He didn't deserve to be safe here with them. He could go back, face Noah and Elle, and let them do whatever they wanted to him. He'd tell them why Sylar was alive. He'd take any punishment, anything...
Adam didn't notice as Mike slipped passed him, out the broken doors and down the escalator.
Sasan's body was still there, bloodied against the wall. Mike instinctively averted his eyes-
And then he forced himself to look. See what you've done, he thought. See what your actions led up to. Face up to it.
Mike swallowed. Shaking, he made himself stare at the fatal gash across Sasan's throat before the familiar face; made himself look at the bullet wound in Sasan's leg that had been all his doing; made himself take in the sight of the pooling blood on the floor, made himself see the-
Gun. They hadn't taken it. It had been left where he'd dropped it on the floor.
For a moment the sight of the weapon stunned his mind.
He'd wanted to prove himself. He'd taken that gun with the full intention of using it, of killing at least one of them to show once and for all that he was on the side of the good guys.
One of them. If they'd been responsible for all those horrors, they deserved to die. It would have been easy. It would be easy...
Mike slowly bent down and picked up the gun, feeling its dead weight in his hands.
You're one of us, Adam had said.
It would be easy...
Distantly, Mike thought of his family. His mom and dad, his home, his room; but they seemed now like nothing more than shadows in a half-forgotten dream.
Mike lifted the gun and pointed it at his head, his hands suddenly steady with a confidence borne of justice and troubled earnestness.
He closed his eyes and thought of how much better things would be for everyone when he was no longer around to mess it up.
I'm sorry, he thought.
And then he pulled the trigger.
#
They all heard the gunshot.
By the time they reached the base of the escalator, Mike was dead.
#
And now they were four.
Their youngest lay sprawled on the ground from where he'd fallen, the gun lying loosely in his palm.
Adam kicked the wall.
Leo dropped to the floor and buried his face in his hands.
Back upstairs, at the bar, shadows playing on their faces:
"There are only half of us left," Adam said, staring into a glass of unidentified alcoholic beverage. "Mike, Sasan, those two yesterday... There should have been eight of us. Not four."
Silence.
"We're not going to make it, are we?" Leo asked quietly.
Adam shook his head, not looking at him. He remembered their first attempt at escape; materialising five different kinds of cheese, finding the database, changing Gabriel Gray's status so he was no longer banned. His fault. Unintentional, but still his fault. He took another swig of whatever was in the glass. But deciding on whom to put the blame would get them nowhere.
Faint sounds from the laptop. Smudge was replaying the video they had made, Spock looking on in silence. On the screen, Sasan lived again. If only for a moment.
"I miss Sasan," Smudge said softly when the video ended.
"'Grief changes shape, but it never ends'," the android bartender quoted. "Reeves. They've all lost someone too," he added, gesturing with his free hand at the other three. A shiny nametag identified him as Arthur.
Adam looked up from his glass and scowled. "Where have you been snooping?" he asked.
"I'm hooked up to the main database. All of us are. We have your files. I know your sister Sara just died. And his mother," he added with a nod towards Spock, "and his adoptive father." He looked at Leo, then went back to polishing glasses that looked clean enough. "Sad group you lot are," he said.
Awkward silence.
"Could you shut down the system?" Adam asked.
"Nope. Even if I could, it would be against my job description."
"What could they do, fire you?"
"My free will is limited to my programming."
"Free will limited by programming is not true free will," Spock said.
Arthur shrugged. "Technically all living creatures are programmed as well. Your DNA dictates a large part of your behaviour. Environmental and upbringing factors beyond your control do the rest. Logically it would seem natural for the universe to be predetermined, and yet it appears to contain an inherent uncertainty that's been proven to result in different end states given identical starting conditions."
"Conversations like this are within your job description?" Adam asked.
"Sure. Lots of people like getting philosophical epiphanies when drunk. I'm only too pleased to assist them."
"Assist us, then," Leo said. "There are a lot of people out there trying to kill us. Surely there's something you can do about it."
"Unfortunately, no," Arthur said. "Communication is all one way. I can access information and receive commands or messages, but I cannot send them out."
"Can I hack your brain?" Adam asked, displaying a marvellous lack of tact.
"You wouldn't understand it even if you could," Arthur said. "I'm a semi-sentient being from another universe. My hardwiring and software would be completely alien to you. Another drink?" he offered instead. "I've been wanting to try my hand at concocting a Pan Galactic Garg-"
"No thanks," Adam said.
"Is this facility equipped with the required mechanisms to send us home?" Spock asked.
"No," Arthur said simply. "None of you want another drink?"
Silence.
"How much longer do we have to live?" Leo asked.
"That's an awfully pessimistic outlook, don't you think?" Arthur asked. "Drink, enjoy life, drink some more, and when the time comes you will barely notice it."
"I do not think it wise to spend what might be our last few days of our lives in a state of intoxication," Spock said.
"Suit yourself, pointy ears. And you've got company." Arthur motioned towards the broken doors where a group of people were making their way through.
They stared at the newcomers, but they seemed primarily interested in the hole in the wall.
"Why are they here?" Adam asked.
"It's a tourist attraction," Arthur said. "The X-Men did it a few days ago. It used to draw lots of people but the excitement died down. Would you like anything to drink, sir?" he called out at one of the new guys, but the latter was more interested in the hole in the wall.
"Don't look at them," Leo said. "Someone might recognise us from somewhere."
"Is there a way to keep people out?" Spock asked.
"I could declare the place dangerous and out of bounds, but frankly I think that will just make more of them interested."
Eventually the others left, and they were alone again.
"You guys may be the last people I see," Leo said.
"What did I say about pessimism?" Arthur asked. "You're not dead yet."
"I'm going to watch TV," Adam decided. He got up with his glass of whatever and dumped it in front of Smudge. "I think you need this more than I do," he said. He picked up the laptop.
"Is he old enough-"
"I'm 23," Smudge stated. He downed the glass. He made a face. "What is this?"
"Ask no questions and I'll tell you no lies," Arthur said cheerily.
"It came from that bottle labelled Experiment #42," Spock observed.
Smudge looked sadly at the empty glass.
Leo went off to join Adam in continuing their Heroes marathon.
"Would it be possible to alter the present system in a way that might allow our return home?" Spock asked.
"One-way trip, buddy," Arthur said.
"Even if that were the original intention, could it be possible to modify the existing-"
Arthur shook his head and cut him off. "That's outside my area of expertise."
"Which is?" Smudge challenged, feeling weird from the drink and realising that there was probably a reason Adam had taken so long with it.
"Being on the frontier of new-beverage creation and chatting with half-drunk people about the nature of existence."
"Oh," Smudge said. "I feel weird," he added, and dropped his head onto his arm on the bar counter.
"#42 was a little unstable," Arthur admitted. "Judging from the few I tried it out on, possible side-effects differ from person to person and include amnesia, dizziness and hallucinating green unicorns running across the lab."
"We're not in a lab," Smudge said, confused.
"That's why it's a hallucination," Arthur explained. "And sometimes they sing: Always, I want to be with you, and make believe with y-"
Spock raised an eyebrow. Arthur stopped singing.
Silence.
"You'd better get moving," said a voice.
Smudge looked up. Dem sat perched on a barstool. He tapped one of his watches. "New guy on the seventeenth floor. Save him, or leave him to find out the hard way what this place is like?" Dem smiled.
Smudge and Spock looked at each other.
"Getting him would mean leaving this place and exposing ourselves to risk," Spock started, hesitantly.
"What if just one of us goes?" Smudge asked.
"That would not be safe. We should stick together."
"Clock's ticking," Dem said casually. "I say it'll take... five minutes for Sylar to get there after I tell him."
"..." said Smudge and Spock.
Dem grinned. "Good luck," he said, and vanished.
"Hello?"
The call went unanswered.
Tony stuck his hands into his pockets and sauntered into the corridor trying to look braver than he felt.
The place seemed empty; there was a dead air about it, and yet something suggested that there had been people here not long ago. Tony's eyes lingered briefly on a patch of discoloured wall and the carpet below it. Blood, he thought, then shook it off. Whatever it was had been cleaned away, though not very effectively.
He jumped slightly as the door shut. Something fluttered in the brief draught of air. It was a note, he saw, as he located it and went over for closer inspection. A note tacked on a door:
'DO NOT OPEN. DEAD PEOPLE + SERIAL KILLER'
...in his handwriting.
Tony stared at it. He blinked.
Nah, he thought, and tried to put the familiar turn of the letters down to coincidence. He stared at the door instead. Dead people plus serial killer. Perhaps it wouldn't be wise to open it. Not now, anyway.
But one thing was certain now; there had been people here at some point...
He continued walking towards the room at the end. The door was ajar, but no sound came from it.
He entered, searched for a light switch and flicked it on.
The room had been lived in. Tony made his way through it. Upturned chair lying by the door, empty cup on the table. Remote control. Discarded sandwich wrappers in the trash. More suspicious blood-like spots on the carpet. A faint smell of roses.
There was an area partially blocked off by a long bookshelf. Tony went in and found himself in a tiny library with a desk in the centre. The shelves held books and assorted junk; on the desk was a digital video camera.
Tony picked it up, curious, and turned it on. He found the menu, scrolled to the sole video recorded there, and played it:
A face appeared on the screen. "My name is Adam Kaufman..."
Tony's mouth fell open.
"Hello?"
Startled, Tony fumbled the video off and put the camera down.
"Where is he?"
"Maybe Sylar killed him."
"We still have twenty-seven seconds-"
"He could have been early."
Tony emerged from behind the shelves and stared at the people who had just run in. "What the hell-"
"No time for questions," the guy from the video said, as another rushed past him to grab a book, and the camera as an afterthought. "You've got to get out of here. Now. Leo!"
Leo ran back out with the camera, its cable and a book about coffee.
"Ten seconds."
"...Is that Sp-"
Adam grabbed Tony's arm ("Hey!") and pulled him out the door. Smudge came out from one of the rooms hugging two pillows.
"Because you're not stealing mine," Smudge stated in response to Adam's unasked question.
"Five seconds."
"He said about five minutes," Smudge insisted as they ran down the corridor. "Not exactly."
Out the door into the lift lobby, where the lift was still waiting for them. They went in and Adam hit the button for the fifth floor.
"What if he's there when the doors open?" Leo asked.
Adam hit the button for the sixth floor.
Tony was busy staring at everyone and wishing that Adam would let go of his arm.
"What's your name?" Adam asked, letting go of his arm.
"Tony."
"Adam, Leo, Smudge, Spock."
"What kind of a name is Smu-"
The doors opened. Adam yanked him out. Sixth floor stairwell. They hurtled down the steps.
"Who are you?" Tony asked. "Why are we running-"
"Questions later," Leo said as they reached the fifth floor and went through into the connecting corridor to the central block.
They slowed down as they entered the crowds, Adam and Leo casting wary glances around as they made their way through to the west side of the block. Past several shops, down a series of corridors, slowing down to a walking pace as they left the crowds behind and entered into a wooden alcove that Tony saw with a shock had two dead people in it.
Leo turned on the camera, facing the lens towards one of the bodies and recording a brief take of it before moving on to the second.
"What are you doing?" Smudge asked.
"Someone might have to tell their families that they're gone," Leo said quietly. "They might need closure." He turned off the camera and joined them walking up the escalator, which wasn't moving fast enough for their liking.
Across the dance floor – "You're back," Arthur said pleasantly – and into their chosen room, where Adam firmly shut the door.
Smudge dumped the pillows on the floor a noticeable distance away from the one that had been Sasan's.
Tony folded his arms. "Okay," he said. "Mind telling me what is going on?"
"Whoa," Smudge said suddenly. "I just saw a green unicorn running across the lab."
"We're... not in a lab," Tony said.
Smudge glared at him. "I saw it!" he insisted. "Why, you don't believe the bisexual guy?"
Leo mentally face-palmed.
"How is your sexual orientation relevant to your hallucinations?" Tony asked. "Or are you into unicorns as well?"
Smudge was aghast. Tony smirked.
"I saw it," Smudge said. "There's... another one... right there..."
Smudge fainted.
#
Always, I wanna be with you
And make believe with you
And live in harmony, harmony...
"Smudge?"
He looked up, dazed. Sasan was standing by the green unicorn. Sasan...
Smudge raced over and grabbed him in a hug. Sasan was real within his grasp. Tangible, solid, breathing... Smudge's fingers closed earnestly over clothes and skin and hair, tears streaming down his face.
"I miss you," he gasped out. "Why did you have to go..."
"I miss you too," Sasan said softly, holding him tight.
Smudge trembled in his arms, trying to lose himself in the rhythm of Sasan's heartbeats; calmer than his own, and a constant reminder of the life that had been taken.
The green unicorn ambled off to another part of the room.
"You're dead," Smudge whispered, his eyes squeezed shut against Sasan's chest. "This isn't real, it's not... there's a unicorn..."
Sasan gently pulled Smudge off him and looked him in the eye. "It's real if you want it to be, okay?" He brushed a tear off Smudge's cheek. "It's just the two of us here with a fabulous unicorn, and that's the only thing that matters right now."
Smudge sniffed and wiped a hand across his nose.
"I mean... Smudge, we got kidnapped from our homes and zapped into another universe. The benchmark for what is real has been moved forever."
Smudge blinked. He turned his face to Sasan's hand on his arm; reached out his own to touch it, tracing the individual fingers, firm and real and there...
Smudge looked back up at Sasan's face, the dark eyes looking steadily back at him, and emotion welled up in his throat.
"Sas..."
"I'm here."
"How..."
"It doesn't matter," Sasan said. "Maybe you're dreaming, or I became a ghost and didn't know it, or the green unicorn was responsible somehow." He glanced quizzically at the green unicorn. "I thought unicorns were supposed to be white."
"What if this is all just in my head?"
Sasan shrugged. "Well, there is a green unicorn."
The unicorn raised an eyebrow.
Sasan looked reprovingly at it.
"For an imaginary creature, it has terrible manners," he commented.
"I don't want to have to leave you again," Smudge said, his voice shaking. "I need you."
"No. No, you don't, Smudge. You're going to be fine, all right?"
"I-"
"Listen," Sasan said. "Look at me. Smudge. You're going to be fine."
Smudge blinked at him through his tears. "But I miss you so much."
"We had good times together," Sasan agreed. "And I don't regret them. I'd do them over if I had the chance, even if it means never going home. ...Though if I knew, I would've let my parents know I was finally moving out."
Smudge hugged him again. Sasan stroked his hair.
"You're going to be fine," Sasan said again. "Put some sense into the rest of them. If Adam bothers you, steal his computer."
"I don't... I don't want to wake up. Don't make me wake up."
"I can't control that," Sasan said quietly.
"I love you," Smudge choked out.
Some unidentifiable emotion passed briefly over Sasan's face.
Smudge hugged him tighter.
Sasan kissed the top of his head.
And then the dream started to fade and die no matter how hard Smudge tried to fight off consciousness; and Sasan grew intangible beneath his grasp, vanishing into mist before his eyes; and then the unicorn too, was gone, and Smudge found himself back with the others, on the floor where he had blacked out, faced with the reality that Sasan was dead.
Tony was munching on a sandwich. "Still seeing things?" he asked; and then he yelled and dropped his sandwich as Smudge lunged at him, knocking him over and delivering an angry punch to his face.
Adam and Leo looked up from where they'd been continuing their marathon. Spock moved to intervene, but Smudge seemed satisfied. He got away from Tony, who was massaging his jaw and looking as though he thought Smudge was crazy.
Smudge got a sandwich, unwrapped it, sat down and ate, alone in his own world, imagining that Sasan was still there with him, and that he was not alone.
#
The hours passed fitfully by in numbing boredom, confined by fear to wait for an unspecified time when they might be free. Adam and Leo occupied themselves with watching TV on the laptop; at one point Tony wandered over to join them and be clueless about the plot so far, whereupon he left for the next room to be bored and attempt to compose pretentious poetry about how terrible things were:
imprisoned. without reason. company of me. they suck.
Spock engaged himself in conversation with Arthur at the bar.
Smudge sat by the hole in the wall, his legs dangling out into the void as he absent-mindedly shredded the empty wrapper of a packet of peanuts and tossed the pieces out, watching them float lazily down and out of sight. He wondered where they went. He wondered where anybody went when they died here in this constructed universe in the middle of nowhere. Did they fade into oblivion? Did they live on in some afterlife? Did their spirits return home? Did they linger on in unconscious dreams that felt so real...
"Sometimes, yes," Arthur said, his voice carrying over to where Smudge sat. "Although it's not always sheep. Sometimes I dream of electric butterflies, or pigs, or unicorns."
"So there was some truth in the writer's speculation," Spock mused. "He was a visionary of his time."
Smudge tossed the last bit of wrapper into the hole and swung his legs back up. He walked over to the bar and sat down.
"What happens when you die here?" he asked Arthur.
"There's only one way to find out," Arthur said.
"Becoming nothing would appear to be the most likely answer," Spock said. "If this universe were created for the sole purpose of holding this facility, it would have been pointless to go to the trouble of fashioning some afterlife system for it."
"Oh," Smudge said sadly.
"You seem down," Arthur observed. "Would you like another drink?"
Smudge lingered for a moment on the thought of seeing Sasan again. But if it wasn't real...
"Maybe later," he said.
"All right."
"Where are the rest of your crew?" Smudge asked Spock. "Kirk and everyone."
"I do not know."
"Maybe they could help us," Smudge said.
"How?"
Smudge shrugged. He had the vague notion that there was no problem that the crew of the USS Enterprise couldn't solve.
"What's it like being an android?" he asked Arthur instead.
"What's it like being a human?" Arthur replied.
"Scary," Smudge said.
"Why is that?"
"You're mortal," Smudge said. "People die. Sometimes too soon."
"It will always be too soon," Arthur said.
Spock nodded in silent agreement.
"Don't dwell on loss," Arthur said. "Nothing much can come from that. There's no point in wasting your time on things you cannot change. That way lies nothing but pain."
"Is drinking that stuff supposed to make you see dead people?" Smudge asked, pointing to the bottle of Experiment #42.
"Hard to say. Not many have tried it, but you'd be the first with that result. Did you see any green unicorns?"
Smudge nodded.
"I could never figure out where that came from," Arthur said.
"They had terrible manners," Smudge said softly.
"Well, that's green unicorns for you."
Adam and Leo finished Season 1 of Heroes, and Leo went to see if the book on coffee was any better than the wisdom of Jach Juan. Adam got the laptop back to displaying camera feeds. He scrolled absent-mindedly through them, his head starting to hurt from the extended period of time spent staring at the screen.
He glanced past shots of people on the various floors. Talking, fighting, being bored, making out, starting fires, trying to hack through the walls, falling through the holes in the walls, eating, running, getting free stuff...
Adam gave a start. He scrolled back and stared at one of the feed windows. A bookstore. People ambling in and out, or reading; and in the corner...
"I found him," he said.
"Who, Wally?" Tony asked, having returned from his poetic exploits in the other room.
"Sylar," Adam said, though he wondered for a moment if Kenselton Hotel was presently home to one bespectacled individual in a red and white striped shirt and a matching hat.
The others came over to look, crowding around the screen. Smudge subconsciously clenched his fists.
Sylar was standing in a corner by the shelves, inconspicuously watching people. Watching, waiting, noting the brief displays of power some of them displayed: telekinetically grabbing a book from a shelf, flying up to get one located too high, reading books just by touching them...
"How do you know it's him?" Tony asked.
"It's him," Leo said, fresh from the Heroes marathon.
They continued staring.
"What do we do?" Smudge asked.
"There's nothing we can do," Adam said. "Short of sneaking up to him like the last time, and it's not worth the risk."
"What if he kills more people?" Leo asked.
"What Sylar does out of his own volition is not our responsibility," Spock said. "We are no more to blame for his actions than anyone else."
Smudge opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come.
They continued watching.
And then, suddenly, Sylar looked straight up at the camera.
Adam swore.
"He can see us," Leo said.
"Closed-circuit cameras don't work that way," Tony said.
"He might have new powers we don't know about," Leo said.
"Stop staring!" Smudge shouted at the camera.
"He can't hear you," Tony said.
"We don't know that," Leo said.
"It's not wholly unlikely that he does this with every camera he sees," Spock suggested. "It would serve to create the illusion that he is aware of anyone watching him."
Smudge walked away. Looking at Sylar just reminded him of what had happened to Sasan.
#
"All right," said the clerk at the Isolated Bubble of Hyperspace Afterlife, coming in with a sheaf of paperwork. Her nametag identified her as Fhille. "The mass suicide crowd's lessened up. It's time to go."
"Where?" Sasan asked.
"I could tell you if the system was up, but it's been down since we shifted everything onto Windows Vista," she explained. "Don't worry. Murder victims usually get off pretty easy."
Sasan looked back across the waiting room. Smudge and the green unicorn had long gone. He wondered if it had been real.
"Um – a friend of mine might be coming back," he said. "Could I wait here for a while more or is that against company policy?"
She sighed. "All right, but not for long," she said. "We're running late. Taxon set all the clocks an hour forward because he thought it was funny, and there's a growing queue of dead people in a few other isolated bubbles of hyperspace that need dealing with. You've got to get out by the end of the day. We normally don't even use the waiting rooms, but the suicide group got messy."
#
"Need any help?" Leo asked, going towards the bar with his hands in his pockets. Arthur was mixing up some other experimental drink; gold liquid bubbled in a flask.
"Sure," Arthur said. "Have a taste of this and tell me what you think."
He poured some of the gold liquid out into a glass. "It is my attempt at the mythical Felix Felicis," he said. "It gives luck. I have yet to arrive at the correct recipe, but I think it makes a pretty good drink, regardless."
Leo took the glass and drank a sip. A deep, glowing warmth spread through him.
"Do you feel lucky?" Arthur asked hopefully.
"Not really," Leo said. "It's good, though." He took another sip, gazing out into the darkness of the dance floor.
"If I may inquire: what are you thinking about?" Arthur asked. "I am often interested in the thoughts of organic sentient beings."
Leo gazed into his glass and swirled the liquid about. "Zachary," he finally said. "Does he know about us? That we're being killed, and... and if he knew, would he care?" Leo looked up at Arthur. "I realised we don't know anything about him," he said. "He could be a horrible person for all we know."
"Would it matter if he was?" Arthur asked.
"Yeah, of course."
"Why?"
Leo hesitated. "What would that say about us?" he asked.
"Absolutely nothing."
"But-"
"Bad parents can produce good kids; life-giving inspiration can spring from wells of despair," Arthur said. "You are who you are, Leo, and nothing can change that. Zachary being a complete scumbag of a human being would not reflect badly on you any more than him being a saint would make Sylar any less of a monster."
"...At some point he shared my life," Leo said quietly. "The same... words, actions, feelings... it doesn't get much more personal than that. But he's just a stranger to me, and... and that's frightening."
"The unknown creator," Arthur said, pouring the rest of the drink into a bottle. "By his fruit he shall be known."
"There are too many kinds of fruit," Leo said. "He could be just like Sylar for all we know, and... and the rest of us were just... acts..."
"But you'll never know, will you?" Arthur asked. "Even if you do meet him, one day, that self he presents could also be an act."
"Yeah," Leo said.
Arthur set the flask and bottle down. "What does he mean to you, Leo?" he asked. "What do you think of when you hear his name? What's more important: the mysterious actor, or all of you?"
Silence.
Leo remembered quiet moments. Adam hacking on the laptop. Sasan and Smudge cuddling on the couch. Spock narrating a log into the silence of the void. Tony hanging around picking fights with Smudge. Mike watching them, hesitant. Picking up cheese from a corridor floor, filming a video, sharing meals in an empty cafeteria, huddled around the television, cheating death, running, hiding, always sticking together as their numbers dwindled from the threat of the watchmaker...
"Us," Leo said softly.
Arthur corked the bottle and set it aside. "Then," he said, "that is all that matters."
#
The tedium of the morning turned to the tedium of the afternoon. Adam and Leo eventually started on the second season of Heroes; Tony hung around sporadically watching with them, still clueless as to what had happened before. Spock picked up the two books, teaching himself about coffee and digging it, and arched a threatening eyebrow when Smudge and Tony looked about to break into a fight ("why are you always so angry? Is it because you're bisexual or is there something else wrong with you?").
Tony said that they were all being paranoid and that there were so many people in the place that he doubted anyone would notice them if they went out instead of just sitting here and waiting to die, because it wasn't as though he looked particularly conspicuous, and if they didn't jump around yelling, "look at me!" nobody would care.
Adam pointed out that Tony had yet to have the experience of being randomly accused of serial killing and beaten up by a complete stranger, and would he please shut up because people were trying to watch a show.
Smudge declared that Tony was an idiot. Tony made a comment about infantile insults, bet that his intellectual capability was higher than his, and that Smudge had no authority to call other people idiots. Smudge raised a fist and told Tony to intellectualise that. Tony made a remark about Smudge's tendency to resort to violence, and if he was the one responsible for the two dead guys down there-
Oh no, Leo thought; and then Tony was on the ground with a bloody nose as Adam and Leo and Spock tried to pry a screaming Smudge away from him.
"You take that BACK!"
"GET OFF ME, YOU BISEXUAL PSYCHO!"
"Smudge-"
Smudge grabbed Tony by his hair, struggling to get full use of his limbs back from the other three trying to pull him off. "I DIDN'T KILL HIM!" he hollered, tears forming in his eyes. "I DIDN'T!"
"So what, you're going to kill me instead?"
Smudge kneed him angrily in the throat.
Spock yanked Smudge off.
"One of you, get out of the room," Adam demanded. "There are enough people trying to kill us without you two helping."
Tony crawled off the floor, massaging his neck where Smudge's knee had threatened to break it. He gave Smudge a final look, then limped off back to the other room to compose more pretentious poetry.
waiting. what are the hours that never end? what is the life that's spent confined? what the eff is wrong with the bisexual guy?
"We should have let Sylar kill him," Smudge said, glaring out the door.
"Looks like you're doing a good enough job of that," Adam muttered, returning to the Heroes marathon.
The afternoon turned to night.
Smudge refused to let anyone touch what had been Sasan's pillow, and finally took it for himself. Spock conceded to go without a pillow.
They left the door open. Shutting it made the room pitch black, and in this place there would be no knowing when it was day. Sparse light came in from a small lamp at the bar, where Arthur was busy concocting new mixtures of alcoholic beverage and thinking about the nature of life.
Smudge lay fitfully in the dark against the wall, missing Sasan's reassuring presence of the past few nights, the absence heightened by the rough carpet and the cold, unfeeling wall. The others dropped off to sleep, evidently unconcerned by that. Steady breathing filled the room. Smudge stared up at the ceiling.
Eventually he got off the floor and slipped out. Arthur looked up as he approached.
"Can't sleep?" he asked pleasantly.
"Yeah," Smudge said, climbing onto a bar stool. "Can I have more of that drink I had?" he asked.
"Sure." Arthur put down the bottles he was carrying and picked up the one labelled Experiment #42. He poured out a glass. "Miss the green unicorns?"
"Nah. I just want to see my friend again."
Smudge drank a gulp of it. He made a face. The taste hadn't got any less weird.
"But does he want to see you?" Arthur asked.
"It's not real anyway," Smudge murmured. "He's dead."
"How does that make it less real?" Arthur asked. "The dead can sometimes be realer to us than the living,"
Smudge swirled the drink in his glass. He drank up the rest of it. He gazed into the empty glass.
"Thanks," he finally said.
"You're welcome."
Smudge got off the bar stool and trudged back into the room. He lay back down on the pillow, waiting.
A green unicorn peeked through the door and huffed rudely at him. Smudge smiled at it.
Then he fainted.
#
"You're back."
Smudge opened his eyes. Sasan was sitting calmly on a bench against the wall.
"I know," Smudge said earnestly. "I won't leave you, I'll stay here as long as I can and then I'll come back again-"
"Smudge, you can't keep doing that," Sasan said. "You've got to move on, okay?"
"But I can't sleep when you're not there."
Sasan sighed. "Come here."
Smudge went. He climbed onto the bench and snuggled up to Sasan. Sasan put an arm around him.
"Tony doesn't like me," Smudge said. "But I beat him up, so I think it's okay now."
Sasan looked at him. "Smudge! You can't just beat someone up if they don't like you."
"He asked if I was the reason you were dead."
"Hey, if he wants to be an insensitive jerk, let him. It's not an invitation to stoop to his level or lower."
"But-"
"Smudge, you've got to stop hitting people. You don't solve problems that way. Show them you're better than that."
"What about Sylar?" Smudge asked.
Sasan considered this. "All right, for him we'll make an exception."
The door opened.
"Time to go," said Fhille.
"Where?" Smudge asked.
"Not you, him."
Sasan made to stand up from the bench. Smudge clutched his arm. "Sas-"
"I've got to go," Sasan said quietly.
"Then I'll go with you," Smudge pleaded. "I'll kill myself if I have to-"
"NO." Sasan grabbed him by the shoulders. "You're not going to kill yourself, Smudge, you hear me?"
"..."
"Smudge!"
Smudge blinked.
"Smudge, promise me that," Sasan said. "Promise me you won't kill yourself. Not for me. Promise?"
Smudge managed a tearful nod.
Sasan relaxed his grip.
Smudge hugged him. Sasan returned it; holding each other close in silent farewell.
"Will I see you again?" Smudge whispered.
"I don't know."
Smudge nuzzled against his neck.
Fhille looked warily at the green unicorn. It stared indignantly at her. She raised an eyebrow. It returned the gesture.
"All right," Fhille said, giving up on the unicorn and moving out the door. "Break it up and let's move."
Smudge reluctantly let Sasan pull away. Sasan went towards the door and stepped out after Fhille, then hesitated.
He turned. Smudge stood there, watching him...
"I love you too," Sasan said quietly.
Smudge swallowed back the tears as Sasan turned to leave for good; and then the door closed shut behind him, never to be opened again.
#
"Would you like a drink, sir?" Arthur greeted.
"No."
"I didn't see you with the others earlier."
Sylar shrugged. "I come and go," he said with a grin.
"Turning in for the night?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"Good night."
"You too."
Sylar went towards the open door and through it. He stood there in the dark as his eyes adjusted, looking over the five sleeping figures spread across the room. One of them rolled over and fell still again.
Sylar smiled.
This place was where he was meant to be.
Chapter 17 »
#