seekevolution | (no subject)

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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"Good." Jack hadn't been planning on answering Peter or his claim about how far he could go. Dragging and lifting grown people and still getting out without his energy being absorbed by that place? Impossible.

Besides, he still hopes that there is a way to fix this. That there is a way to save the others.

The Captain pulls back out into the street. "If I didn't bring them, they would have gotten swallowed up in that cloud any way." Go ahead and judge him.

He doesn't care.

Mohinder, however, does care. He clings to the girl, no more than five years old and a good bit younger than Molly, as if he could fix her just with a hug. He insists on carrying her to Owen's medical theatre too. And sitting with her. There's a strange, lost look in Mohinder's eyes.

He's always been too sensitive.

Peter is perhaps a bit more distant from these things than the others. Maybe that's why Jack picked him? He was never sure. Owen was very emotional when it came to the injured and Mohinder cared far too much for these little lost lambs. Ianto was very empathic, especially with Jack, and Tosh cared whenever Owen did. Seemed to be her way.

He just felt oddly hollow. Like he knew he should feel bad but he just didn't. He was alive and that's all that mattered.

While Owen began tests, Peter came to sit by Sam. Gene seemed to of been gone, it was obvious by how little Sam was swearing now. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let his head roll back.

"Can we leave yet or do we have to make sure we're not possessed?"

"Do you really want to be alone now?" Jack stands looking down at the people gathered. Owen and Ianto are bringing in the boy from the trunk, his face mauled by his own fingers. Mohinder is down there with the little girl.

He glances at Peter and nods in the vague direction of the room he usually sleeps in...when he sleeps. "You can use my mattress if you want to sleep, but you should stay here."

Tosh has likely kept Molly upstairs and in back and Mohinder is grateful for that. He can't face the girl, not yet. Jack calls down to him and gestures for him to come away. Mohinder is...reluctant. But he does listen.

"I want you both to rest. It's been a long day."

"I don't want to sleep, Jack. Why would I ever want to sleep?" Peter said in a tone that made it perfectly clear he wasn't about to. Maybe Mohinder should, he'd had a long say, but Peter couldn't. He never could after something like this. Insomnia often came hand in hand with his depression and after a day like this? He didn't need sleep.

He'd only see the theme park. And the mascots. And all those screaming people, reaching out for help.

And how sickeningly pleased he is that he got to live.

"I just want to go home. I need to make sure Leonardo is fine. And my fish need feeding. Besides, I still haven't written a report nor had dinner. It's only 12pm, so much ahead," Sleep wasn't something he had on the books. Maybe an all nighter? Some nice coffee, maybe some waffles? Sounded better than sleep. "I'm fine alone. If something goes wrong, there's only me to kill now."