seekevolution | (no subject)

The bickering stops as Owen mentions a heart rate spike and Jack tells Tosh to work harder on restoring visual connection with Peter's contacts. "Hold on, Pete. We're working on it. Mohinder, take a look?"

Several metres ahead, Mohinder turns back to look at Peter and shrugs. He sees -- and therefore both the hub and Owen and Ianto in the SUV -- see Peter standing there, white as a sheet, pointing at his reflection in the mirror. "I don't... Peter...?" Mohinder makes quick work of walking back towards his partner just as his reflection wraps his hands around Peter's reflection's throat.

He's saying something but Peter can't make it out. The way his air suddenly seems missing, though--

"Peter...? PETER!"

He couldn't breath. No matter how hard he tried, there was something choking him, a hand clasped around his neck. It felt real. And yet, no one seemed to be doing anything to help him. Peter hunched over, gasping for breath as he tried to get whatever was choking him off. It wasn't working, how could he grab what wasn't there?

He was going to die!

He reached out, touching the glass and trying desperately to get the reflection off him. If he ever got out of here, he was breaking every mirror ever... wait, actually, that's not a bad idea.

Pulling his fun out of his back pocket, he staggered back with great effort, training it on the mirror and taking several shots. The only way to beat a mirror was to break it... right?

The mirror fell apart and Peter dropped down, breath surging back to him. His throat was killing, everything was blurry and he could faintly hear voices wittering in his ear.

Having not gotten to Peter before the gun was drawn, Mohinder throws himself down instead to protect his face from flying glass. Really? Again? Hasn't he had enough of that in his hair for a life time? There are still scars, faint but still there, from Sylar's little joyful yo-yoing up and down again. Not fun.

And this isn't either. Esspecially with Jack yelling and the shattered glass and the enclosed space where the gun went off left Mohinder's ears ringing. He blinks, shaking his head, trying to push himself up...and realizes that the front of his white shirt is completely soaked in blood.

His trembling hands lift to touch the fabric and the first stings of the gunshots rattle through his body. Mohinder gasps. "Oh-- Oh god--" he moans, and looks up at Peter.

The Scot, likely also suffering from the sound of the blast from the gun, won't see anything on Mohinder at all. The pantomiming, however, will fill him in on what Mohinder thinks -- feels? Perhaps even sees? -- is happening.

"You.. Peter.. Oh God!"

Peter couldn't quite get his head together, lack of oxygen did that. His throat was killing and his head felt like it was falling apart. He crawled along the glass, ignoring how it dug in. He finally looked up at Mohinder and -- well, he hadn't expected to see that much blood. He couldn't really hear Mohinder and he wasn't capable of much more than a rasp right now.

Forcing himself onto his feet, he reached out and grabbed onto Mohinder, yanking him towards the exit the best he could. He had to get them out of here. Now. He could worry about Mohinder and the pain he was in when they were away from the evil mirrors. But right now? They needed to leave.

He didn't know what could happen next but the fire exit was right there. He slammed himself against it more than once, desperately fighting with the lock. When it didn't open, he hauled them both back and took another shot, blowing the lock right off the door.

He didn't respond to Jack, not until he saw grass and the great outdoors once more. Only then did he reach out, trying to do something to stop the bleeding.

"Owen. Now. He's dying!" He managed to get out, not sure how he was meant to treat gun shots. No one had really taught him that.

There's no reply to either of them, no sound from the comms, no Jack or Owen or even Tosh shouting in their ears. There's only the two of them, Mohinder trembling and convulsing as the blood--

Wait. Blood?

The man's shirt is pristine. There are no gun shot wounds to his abdomen, just as there are no marks of the reflection-Mohinder's fingers around his throat. In fact, there's nothing at all but two men gasping at one another in the grass in front of the fun house of what had been a run down old theme park and now looks alive.

Well. At least lit up and filled with a few dozen people, more than half of them in mascot costumes, staring at the pair from the sidelines as they roll around together.

Mohinder blinks down at himself and sits up in confusion.

"I... Oh. Um..." He's not sure what's happening, frankly.

This was like an incredibly unpleasant horror film. The worst kind, actually. Not only was he hallucinating or something that Mohinder was dying but now a whole load of giant horrible mascots were watching them recover for the horrors of the mirror room. Oh yeah and the stupid comms were down.

"Fuck."

What? What else could he say? He was stuck here now, he had no way out. They were going to be eaten and skinned alive by people in giant monkey and bear costumes.

"We should run away. Like now. And just leave. Jack can fire us all he wants, I want to live," Peter babbled slightly, his voice still a little croaky from the force he'd felt on his throat. He definitely wanted to get out of here now.

"Captain," Mohinder says, not to ignore Peter, but to get a confirmation on the run away scheme. He really, really likes that idea, even if he recognizes a few faces from the missing people photographs he'd seen at the briefing. With the lights and the music and all of the rides going, they, and the mascots, turn to leave them alone. For now.

There's only static in his ears as the comm remains dead and he pulls the device out and pockets it, eyes never leaving Peter's face.

"I... I would have to say this but-- I agree with you, one hundred percent." He lets Peter pull him to his feet and together, they start off towards the gate. Mohinder does his best not to bump into anyone. It's rather disorienting.

Oh thank God that Mohinder gave in for once and acted like a coward. This place was hell and they needed out. He dashed to the entrance faster than anything he'd ever ran to before, legs moving better than he thought they would considering everything that had happened. That was what desperate to leave did to someone. And because of his own blind wanting, he didn't see the mascot near the gate till he collided full pelt with him.

They both landed on the floor and the first thing that hit Peter was the smell that came from the costume. It was like ... rotting. Like that dead hooker he found on that one case, left under a bed for days in a motel. The smell was awful.

And the body was solid. That was wrong, shouldn't it be more plush?

As he scrambled off, the mascot said something unintelligible and sat up itself, looking right at Peter. Probably. How could he tell with the suit on?

Peter leapt onto his feet and backed up, making sure Mohinder was still with him. Thank God, he was right there. Still standing because he wasn't a totally uncoordinated moron.

As the mascot found it feet, never once taking it's eyes off them, it's hands settled on the oversized bear head. "Hey there boys, want to see my head come off?"

Okay, not only was the voice scary as hell and worryingly chipper but Peter so didn't need to see what would happen next. Without stopping to look, he started to run again. "Mohinder! I hate this place so much!"

Peter, you can't just run away so fast without being absolutely sure that Mohinder is right there with you! Otherwise, terrible thing occur. Like now, for instance. As Peter has gone off sprinting towards the food stands on Main Street, Mohinder is still standing there, wetting his lips, staring up at the giant bear with the bright pink skin and that putrid stench coming from it.

The question is off. The voice is even worse. But honestly, what has Mohinder's feet planted to the floor? It's curiosity. He's a bloody scientist. Unfortunately, that means he does stupid things from time to-- Oh, who is anyone kidding? Most of Torchwood is filled with geniuses, and while Mohinder is one of them, he's also too dumb to live sometimes.

As the mascot lifts off it's head, a yellowish pus drips down it's fur. The sound of fabric and...oh god. Bone? fills the air. The others have stopped again, standing to the side. Watching.

Mohinder is too.

His eyes are almost unfocused with fear. "I... no. No."

Edited 2013-11-02 21:35 (UTC)

Peter didn't stop running till he hit the food stand, turning his head to see where Mohinder was. And he wasn't there.

... How?!

Fuck! God damn bloody fucking shit! In annoyance, he violently kicked the food stand, knowing he had to go back. Even if every impulse said not to. And he was so close to the gate as well. With a groan, he took off back in the direction he'd came, noting the crowd that had formed.

"Mohinder! Mohinder, you moron, come on!"

He didn't mean to get insulting but seriously? He stayed to watch? Why? Why?! This was exactly how dumb blondes died in horror films.

And, lucky for Peter, he came back just in time to see the pus and the snapped bones. The horrible sight that was a mascot removing what seemed to be a bears head mixed with ... zombie human heady stuff? He didn't want to know.

"Mohinder! Run!"

Run? Run where? Mohinder blinks at Peter in confusion before he feels a hand on his elbow. Right. Run!

Nothing comes after them, but there's laughter in the air, mixed with the sounds of music from the rides. A grating static his it intermittantly as if the batteries on the radio are slowly dying or they're stuck in some sort of reverse loop. The feedback ends as they jet past the Ferris Wheel. And the fun house. Just across a barrier of rose bushes and lush landscape, one of the tunnel of love boats emerges from a tunnel and the people riding inside of it look fused at the head and the chest--

They're alive, Mohinder can see that, struggling to get apart from one another desperately. He just doesn't have time to slow down and do it. Pumping his arms, he manages to catch up with Peter just past the carousel and almost tackles him into the bushes as a group of squishy sounding mascots round the bend.

No talking.

Not right now. Mohinder squeezes his eyes shut tightly and holds his breath.

Peter let himself be pulled, knowing that it was better to be in a bush than be in the grips of those things. He closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten as he heard feet shuffle and the music fade in and out. It was definitely grating, the way it changed tone so much. He just wanted it to stop.

He wanted it all to stop.

Once he was sure the coast was clear, he gestured for them to get up, climbing free from the bush as the mascots disappeared behind the food stand. They weren't far away now. If they kept running and Mohinder didn't get distracted by something shiny then they could get out without dying.

Yes, yes, he wanted to not die very much today. Once more, he started for the gate, grabbing Mohinder's hand this time. They were not splitting up again!

For future reference, Peter, he's not a child. He does not need his hand held. The touchstone might be nice, and the tether even nicer since it means that, luckily, Peter won't bolt without him again, but he feels ridiculous running through the theme park towards the front gates with Peter tugging him along.

For a few terrifying moments, Mohinder thinks that the gate will be closed and locked. However, as they near it, the sounds fade away and rides stop their motion. The lights blink off. And Jack, far away since the earpiece is now in Mohinder's pocket, screams at them both.

Peter, unfortunately, gets the full blast as they shove through the gates and run towards the van where Ianto and Owen are currently arming themselves to go in.

Mohinder's lungs are going to explode, he's sure of it. Everything hurts and he squeezes Peter's hand as if his life depends on it.

Thanks for the ear-ache, Jack. He winced as they crossed the gate, jumping at the noise. Peter pulled it off and dropped it onto the floor, happily coming to a stop and yet still holding onto Mohinder's hand. Ianto and Owen could laugh about it later if they had to put Peter wasn't ready to let go. Not yet. Hence why when he dropped to the floor, he pulled Mohinder down with him.

He was exhausted, he could barely breath and he'd had the life officially scared out of him. Everything else could wait while he took a breath.

He would officially never sleep again.

Jack was still yelling in their ear pieces and Peter tentatively spared his fallen one a glance. "Is it too late to quit? I want to quit. This job sucks. I don't even get overtime for this shit."

Well he did but it wasn't double pay like his other job!

Phoom! Peter is lanky and thin, but oh! Oh, he can be heavy when he wants to be and at the ground in front of Ianto's feet, Mohinder is pulled down and half on top of Peter. He just blinks, mind reeling. Blinks and lays there as Ianto moves past them to turn off Peter's earpiece on the ground and put a hand to his own ear.

"Jack? They're fine, Owen will check them over but they're fine.... You'll have to ask Mr. Carlisle that later I suppose." He smirks a little and turns back to Owen. "Well," he says, trying to be upbeat, "let's load them up. We have our readings and we'll get back to Cardiff to let Tosh look at them."

Mohinder isn't quite so sure he can stand, but strangely enough, when Ianto pulls him to his feet, he doesn't just fall over.

The ride back to the hub is quiet, at least on Mohinder's end. He sits in the back of the SUV, staring out the window. They missed something important. He's not sure what but he just knows it.

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."