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Torchwood is exciting, the way that it had once been in New York when he'd been hunted by Company and by a serial killer posing as a friend in horribly lame band t-shirts. Mohinder's move from Company heel and Noah Bennet's lapdog back to the UK (the only place he'd felt safe to bring Molly where she would be able to understand the language and still be away from the mess in America) to Torchwood agent had happened as they usually did.

Jack courted him. Mohinder refused until refusing became impossible. And that's why he finds himself here, standing in the so called Red Zone, around a theme park with the less than illustrious name of "Figmentation Imagination Exploration World!" scrolled across the metal sign in large, person sized letters over the box office queuing area.

He glances over at the lanky Scotsman he is almost always paired with and the pair of chain cutters he's currently failing with at the gate. A sigh and Mohinder adjusts the earpiece he's wearing. "Captain, still having a bit of trouble with the front gate. We should be inside in about an hour at this rate." He's only half teasing though he can hear Owen's voice saying something irately in the background.

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The ride back was weirdly quiet. Most because they usually had the radio on, Peter would belt out whatever was on it then chatter endlessly about whatever he'd been doing at work till everyone was slightly annoyed or fed up. He mostly did that on purpose, just to see how long it took for Owen to lose it. But today? He was far too tired for that.

Instead, he tried not to think on what happened and closed his eyes to relax. The mental imagine of the mascot, trying to remove it's head ... that one would haunt his dreams for a while. He couldn't shake that uncomfortable feeling.

God, it made him feel like he could be sick.

He spared a look over at Mohinder, noticing the puzzled frown he seemed to be wearing on his face. If he wanted to go back, he was taking someone else. Peter wasn't going in there ever again if he could help it.

That had to be hell on Earth.

More than anything, Mohinder wants to see Molly again. He just isn't sure he should. After today, he's not sure going home is even an option. As the SUV pulls onto the lift that will drop them through the garage into the hub itself, he keeps his safety belt on. Even after Jack trots up to open the door for Peter, and tugs him tenderly into his arms before he can get punched or stabbed or shot or whatever Peter will do to him while Owen and Ianto unpack, Mohinder just stays in his seat.

That's worrying.

"Tosh is going to stay with Molly tonight," Jack tells Peter. The girl might as well be an honourary part of Torchwood, she knows everything and has helped here or there when Mohinder will allow it. Jack pulls back, hands on either side of Peter's shoulders. "So you take him with you."

They shouldn't be alone. And because Mohinder is as dumb as bricks as he is pretty, Jack figures that the Indian won't remove the contacts for awhile more and Jack and find out what the hell happened to them.

Peter really wanted to punch Jack. Very desperately. But he was too tired and he just wanted to go to bed. Hell, he was beyond done for tonight and starting a fight didn't really seem like a fun idea. So, instead, he heaved a sigh and simply nodded. Fine, okay, he could deal with Mohinder sleeping over. They did that sometimes, stopped at each others place.

He liked Mohinder's house better than his, Molly was fun to play with and they had more food. He hadn't been shopping in two days so he hoped Mohinder didn't expect breakfast.

"You can give us a lift home then."

Not only could he not driving in this state but he didn't bother bringing a car. And he didn't even know if Mohinder owned a car or what. Either way, they needed a lift.

Mohinder blinks almost languidly up at Peter before he shakes his head. "I need to get home to my daughter," he says, but as he still has not climbed out of the SUV, it's pretty obvious that he shouldn't be left to take care of an eleven year by himself at the moment. And Peter-- Peter just feeds her chocolates until they're both up all night singing Britney Spears songs.

Mohinder does not approve at all of Britney Spears thank you!

Behind Peter, Jack is speaking in low tones with Owen and Ianto is up on the third floor cat walk with Tosh, who is grabbing her coat. It dawns on him that she's likely going to take care of his daughter and he sighs. "Right then."

He's not too fond of Peter's flat. It's large, but not very well kept. In fact, after Jack drops them off, Mohinder spends the next ten minutes cleaning up.

Peter doesn't care much what Mohinder does in his flat, he could tidy the whole thing if he wanted it. Peter didn't keep it tidy but he hardly bothered to use it. Most days, he slept in his car or at work, not always intentionally. Coming to a home, an actual home, was always weird. He was so used to hotels now, this place just didn't feel right.

While Mohinder started cleaning his living room, Peter fed his fish and turtle. A chore he always enjoyed. They swam up to the tank, looking so pleased, he couldn't help but smile himself.

That was one good thing about a place to live, he finally got to keep pets.

"Mohinder, you're never going to make this place presentable. Give it up."

"This is how you get ants," Mohinder mutters, his voice quite a bit deeper than usual. He sounds both tired and energized all at the same time which is both ridiculous and a little bit frightening. He carries wrappers to the waste bin and then returns with it to finish his tidying up. He'll do all of Peter's dishes next and wipe down the counters.

He needs something to do. The thought of sleeping is not one he happily embraces at this particular moment.

"How about I order take away? Vinadloo all right with you?" Cardiff isn't quite like larger English cities but Indian restaurants are still quite popular and Mohinder takes advantage. There's no reason for him to even bother with Peter's refrigerator. There's nothing in it. There's never anything in it. "I thought I'd get some saag paneer you can ultimately steal from me."

"I used to have ants as a boy. I left rotten food out to attract them then put them all in a maze. It was a fantastic little thing," Peter remarked nostalgically, dropping down onto his sofa and ignore the literal pile of clothes that sat next to him. It was like some sort of clothing snow man.

Peter was exhausted, all he wanted to do is sleep. But, sadly, he couldn't seem to get into that mind frame.Not after tonight. So, instead, he put on the TV and tried to focus on whatever happened to be playing.

"I don't mind, order what you want," Peter mumbled, knowing he'd probably just eat off Mohinder's plate anyway. That and he wasn't actually that hungry. Seeing a mascot trying to pull it's head off did that.

Mohinder's seen Peter on the bad days. He's often had the man over specifically to counter act them. When left with a rambunctious American girl with an interesting power to play around with (though Mohinder frowns upon using it for silly things like trying to determine which world leaders happen to be in the toilet at the moment), it's really very hard for anyone to be depressed at all! Of course, without Molly-- Mohinder only has himself. And he's not very good at cheering people up when he can't get the smell of decay out of his nose.

Mohinder orders their food, with extra naan, and then sits on the coffee table, facing Peter and his clothes snow-man. He wets his lips, trying to collect his thoughts.

"We ought to write down our reports before we forget details. We... We have a few experiences not shared by the other and-- And I don't want to have to say any of it out loud, Peter."

Edited 2013-11-03 20:17 (UTC)

"Mohinder, we just experienced hell in the form of a theme park. I can't be dealing with paper work right now. I'm going to watch TV, have some dinner then maybe drink myself to sleep. Depends how I feel after the food," Peter remarked with a slight sigh, not willing to give into this one. He didn't want to do work when he felt like this, like he'd probably never sleep again. Didn't inspire him.

And besides, Mohinder was giving him that look. That responsible adult look. And he wasn't in the mood to play along.

"You can start yours, if you want. My desk is over there. But I'm not doing mine till at least tomorrow."

Welp, this really isn't what Jack wanted, but at least he'd be able to read Mohinder's report as he wrote it. The Indian was kind enough to do it in English and his writing is so very neat that Ianto never minds typing it after. Unlike some other people they both know.

Mohinder's report is fine at first, though as he's writing about the fun house experience, right where he and Peter had both lost connection to Torchwood, the Indian begins to write: "We see you, come and play with us," over and over again until three pages are filled and the doorbell rings with their take away.

Mohinder doesn't even seem to notice, he just answers the door, pays the man, and goes to make Peter his plate up so that they can have dinner together. "Just come to the table," the Indian calls. "That's what it's there for."

Peter continued to watch some chat show while Mohinder did his report, his mind trying to repress what had happened to him tonight. He didn't get how Mohinder could even want to think back to it. With a sigh, he turned his head as the door was knocked, knowing he'd have to get up and have some food. Going to bed hungry never did it for him.

As he walked on by, he paused to take a look at Mohinder's report. And stopped dead when he read the last part of it.

Oh no. Oh not again. He seriously couldn't deal with this shining stuff any more.

"Mohinder?" He asked carefully, turning to the man. "What's wrong?"

Setting out plates, Mohinder glances up at Peter with a frown. "Aside from the obvious? Nothing I suppose. Are you coming or should I expect to eat alone after all?" He doesn't like how pale Peter is. In fact, it worries him beyond measure and he stops what he's doing to straighten up.

Maybe he ought to have called Jack. Maybe he ought to have insisted that they sleep at the hub. Or have Owen run tests-- Why didn't they have tests run on them!?

"You're starting to frighten me, Peter," he whispers to the other man. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

Peter backed up, moving away from Mohinder. What was wrong with him? He must of known what he'd done. Very carefully, he pulled his mobile from his pocket and speed dialled Jack up. Here's hoping he was free and able to answer because he didn't know what to do.

While the phone rang, he gestured over at Mohinder's report, hoping the other man took the hint and saw what Peter had seen. He wasn't in the mood to discuss it. He didn't think he could.

When the phone finally answer, Peter didn't bother with pleasantries. "It's followed us home. Jack, help. It's still with us."

That phone call has Mohinder's hands shaking as he watches Peter. He'd been hoping for something to eat and a quiet not on the couch and now he's stuck with Peter looking at him as if he's mad and calling in the Calvary.

"I know," Jack says, muffled by the wind. "I'm already on my way. Two minutes out." Yes, spying on you. No, not sorry he did it. He'll be extra nice to you in bed later.

Mohinder is already backing up towards the door, however. "Maybe I should... Maybe I should go--"

"Don't leave!" Peter snapped, knowing that letting Mohinder loose could be danger. What if something had come back with him. If he went home to Molly, that girl may never see the light of day again. He couldn't tell Mohinder that, he might freak out worse than they both were already.

Turning back to the phone, he took a deep breath. He didn't care how Jack knew, he just wanted him here. And fast.

"Hurry up Jack."

Oh God, he was going to die here, wasn't he? Some mascot was going to burst in and kill him. Fortunately he'd left a video will asking Jack to feed his turtle so at least he had one less thing to worry over.

"There is a physical limitation to how fast I can drive," Jack grunts, having already sent word to Ianto to meet him here and to Owen to get back to the hub and wake up Tyler just in case they need some other side intervention. Gene's not the best angel to work with but he's the only one they've got if this gets nasty.

Mohinder holds up his hands as he slowly backs away from Peter. In his hands, he doesn't see the report or the phone that Peter is holding, he sees a gun. Just like the one that shot the mirror this afternoon.

The one that caused the gun shots to appear on him.

"Please...just let me leave..."

"Oh yeah, pick today to obey traffic laws," Peter complained, unsure what he was going to do till Jack got here. He kept the phone on, mostly because it was comforting to know he wasn't alone. That Jack was here in some ways. And if he got horribly murdered then at least someone would hear it and know what happened. Got to look at the positives.

"Mohinder, just stay calm. We just need Jack here and everything will be fine. There's some ... weird shit happening. Right, mate?"

He just needed Mohinder not to try and run. Cause he didn't fancy tackling him. Or having to lock himself in with the man. If only Jack could move faster!

This was so not how he wanted to spend his night.

Mohinder's desperation seems to be increasing as his eyes fill with tears and the terror pours off of him. Peter's an expert at reading people, at talking to them. And Mohinder is a terrible liar. This fear is real.

"Please, Peter," he whispers. "I have a daughter. You don't want to do this. She can't lose another parent, it's absolutely unfair for her." A tear escapes and runs down his cheek.

The peel of the SUV around the corner is finally audible at least. Another minute, Peter. Just buy him another minute.

"Mohinder, think about this logically. I love Molly, she's a great kid. I like you too. So why would I want to hurt either of you in any way. Emotionally or physically?" Peter pointed out, not overly sure what Mohinder must of been seeing. All he knew was that something was very wrong and one of them was infected. For all he knew, it could of been him. He could of been doing something horrible.

But Jack was here and he would sort it. Or they'd die. Either way, problem solved. Right?

"Something is in our heads, you know? And we just need to be calm and think. I'm not doing anything to do you so if you think I am, take a moment to consider why I ever would?" Peter reasoned, just wanting to man to think about this one. Logic could always beat out fear. Or so it did with Peter.

Come on Jack, he can't keep this thing up forever!

Back in a corner, Mohinder has no where else to go. He's stuck and though Peter is saying things that make sense, he keeps pointing that gun at him. Pulling back the hammer. There's a bullet in the chamber, Mohinder heard the click. "Just...put it down--"

Jack is going to owe Peter some new hinges. He'll apologize later for the burn marks too but he's in a hurry. Shooting and then muscling open the door is about the quickest way possible to let himself in. He's a little shocked by what he's seeing. Mohinder with a kitchen knife, Peter with his gun--

"Woah, woah. Guys, c'mon. How about we just put everything down? Whatever you're holding, down we go."

Mohinder gasps and slides down to the floor. The mascot-- That horrible bear -- How did it find them!?

Peter frowned, not sure what either of them were talking about. Was he going slightly mad or something? Must of been. He didn't see the mascot, he just saw Jack, but he still didn't see the gun that he was holding. Or the fact that he was very much on the verge of squeezing the trigger. He didn't even notice he had it, it didn't register. "Jack, something very fucked up is going on with Mohinder. Look at his report!"

The words that were written spoke of his madness. Whatever it was, it must of come back with Mohinder. Not Peter, he was totally sane. Yep, no crazy carnival fun time for him.

Well, not until the lights started to flicker in his house and he could hear that music again. Spinning around, Peter finally realised he had his gun. It felt -- right. In his hands. He had to destroy that music.

"It never stops. It's faulty. I have to make it stop."

It did his head in at the theme park and now it was back. Back and getting louder!

Oh, so this is really great. Not only has Mohinder, crying pathetically, turned the knife on himself, but Peter's got a gun to his own head now? Bullets do more damage and Jack decides immediately to tackle Peter before he deals with whatever Mohinder is muttering about in Hindi.

"I saw the report, that's why I came. Mohinder never took out his contacts. Now I need you to put the gun down, Peter." One last chance. If Peter doesn't, it's to the floor with him. Straight to the floor.

Jack isn't going to go easy on either of them.

He just hopes Ianto gets here soon before someone that isn't immortal dies.

Peter stared for a while, his hand trembling between wanting to resist and wanting to pull the trigger. But logic always beat fear. And if Jack was telling him to stop then he had to stop. That was the right move because he wouldn't say it otherwise, would he?

"I'm taking a lot on faith here, Jack," With grim determination, he let his hand uncurl and the gun fell to the ground. When it finally out of his hand, the music stopped and Peter took a deep breath just as Ianto came rushing through the door and over to Mohinder.

Looking up, he felt a level of clarity come back to him as he stared at Jack, trying to understand what was happening to them. Something was deeply wrong here.

"I think we need to go back to the hub. It's still here. It doesn't stop."

Jack is grim as he bends to pick up the gun. Mohinder's nicked himself, he's bleeding, but Ianto reports that it's all superficial from a shaking hand. Mohinder's still shaking, even after Ianto coaxes the knife from his hand, and leans forward to press his face against the Welshman's chest. Ianto's not sure what to do with the sobbing Indian, other than pat his back, but he does just that and looks with concern up at Jack.

The captain can't help but agree with Peter. "It's not here, Peter," he says grimly. "It's with you both. No matter where you go-- But we're getting Sam. We're going to put you both in separate holding cells. And I want full reports. Verbally. I need to know everything you saw in there, Peter."

The ride back to the hub is mostly filled with Mohinder's constant sobbing. Ianto stays in the back of the SUV with him while Jack coaxes Peter to begin.

Peter sat in the front, feet on the dash board and his head tilted back. He knew he was meant to retell the grand tale but he didn't really feel like it. It was hard to know where to start. He started from the point where the contact had fallen apart, explaining the hall of mirrors, the music and the mascot. Oh and how it pulled it's own head off.

"I think whoever had been in there either died or merged with the suit. It was such a powerful smell of rot and then the weight. It was horrible. And the noise they made."

Peter groaned slightly at the memory and pulled a face at Jack. He clearly didn't enjoy that memory.

"I never liked theme parks, you know? When I was a kid, my dad lost me in one and I had to be walked to the customer service booth by the creepiest clown ever," Peter complained, knowing he never should of agreed to this mission. "The candy floss is always over priced as well. I'm sorry but it isn't worth £2, you know?"