seekevolution | Quarantine

Matt let Mohinder touch him however he wanted to reassure himself mostly because he didn't have any energy to fight it. He wasn't good in a spotlight, and in a similar vein, he'd never particularly liked being fussed over either. Here, though ... his head was still pounding so bad he felt like he might be sick. He hadn't felt that way since - since months ago in the convenience store when he'd first collapsed from all the voices in his head.

It stood to reason that that's what Mohinder would assume had happened. For now, Matt only nodded, because it wasn't wrong and he didn't feel up to explaining. He gladly accepted the glass of water and kept his eyes closed again as he drank half of it, still touching his forehead, grimacing.

"Molly would be, uh ... cross with me if I went out that easily", he told his glass weakly, not quite willing to lift his eyes. It was a deliberate mimic of Mohinder's usual choice of words though and that should show that Matt was ... okay. Not sick, not hallucinating, not feverish. It was just that his head was splitting open. "I just need an Aspirin. Or ten."

"That, I actually might be able to help with," Mohinder said in a somewhat self disparaging tone because he hardly felt as if he'd done much good here. Matt's somewhat playful response at least gave the geneticist a smile on his face, no matter how soft and he stood up from his hovering, fly-like buzz around the telepath to see to the pills he'd found that afternoon in the drawer of the desk.

Not Aspirin, but close enough. He'd had some himself too, just before the tuna sandwich incident. If he'd not thrown up after that, he doubted these pills to be mislabeled. Alieve sounded rather like proper stress and ache medication. Plopping two pills, not ten as requested, into the larger man's palm, Mohinder was just getting back to the desk when the door to the lab was pulled closed.

It was impossible not to figure out the clicking that came after, but that didn't stop the Indian from cursing in Hindi and, upon trotting over to try to knob, announce what they both already knew.

"Locked in."

Mohinder's forehead hit the frosted glass before he turned and slid back down to the floor.

"This might rank up there with the night I attempted homicide with a bed pan," he muttered.

Funny. The click of a lock had never been so loud before. The distorted, enlarged sound actually took a while to register to Matt, who was just drinking the rest of the water to swallow those pills, so it did take Mohinder to announce this new change in their already bad situation for him to react.

And he did, quite immediately.

"What the-"

Standing, and standing quickly, proved immediately to be a very bad idea. But Matt held onto the desk like the best of them and was growling at it like it had personally offended him until he could look up to instead glare at the door.

"- no, just- what the hell do they think they're doing?! Hey!"

Oh, that was kind of dumb too, making loud noises. He clenched his jaw, shoulders tensing.

If anyone remained outside the door, they didn't answer. There was a shadow clearly passing, but whether they truly left or simply wanted to remain out of sight ...

A lockdown. A lockdown on the geneticist of all people, the one who was supposed to be working with the CDC to fix the entire thing. Yeah. Why would you do that? You wouldn't, was the short answer. And so Matt's initial distrust levels went through the roof.

Matt might have snapped but Mohinder felt suddenly very far removed from the scene as he watched his friend -- possibly the only one he had -- stagger to his feet like a tranquilized grizzly and try to be intimidating to no one. Their captors (for that was who they really were now) were no where around. Their reasoning was lost to them until Matt could calm himself down enough to heal. For all Mohinder knew, though he felt it unlikely, it was for their own protection. After the mess with the gun, after the riots that morning, the media black out, Mohinder probably was the villain here. He did the testing. He gave out the wrist bands--

Ah, and there was the guilt again. The Indian looked at his palms, not at Matt, for several very long moments until he felt the world give way. He'd been suffering for days now, constantly in a state of terror, unable to tell any more who to trust, and the weight of it finally broke down upon him.

It was with wet lashed eyes, shining too brightly to be mistaken for anything but tears, that Mohinder moved once more to Matt's side and, hands to the larger man's shoulders, attempted to calm him down with a shaking voice that highlighted the agitation and fear he was trying to old back.

"Please--" Oh, he'd beg. He was generally too proud but today, of all days, he just needed a moment of calm. "What good will it do," he started, velvety purr becoming shrill, "if you hurt yourself more?!" He'd often thought of himself as capable of defending himself but time and time again he'd been proved so very wrong. He needed Matt for more than just a little stability now. "Stop yelling!" he shouted, not that it helped any. It just made his throat seem to close up all the more. "We need to stay calm!"

There was a moment there when they were both yelling at different things and although Matt was beginning to come out of the lightheadedness at that point since he wasn't trying to use his power, his headache still protested about as loudly as their voices. How did he tackle that? With more yelling, of course, but only for as long as it took to make sure everything else was quiet. "Okay, alright, alright!" became a mantra until there was no other noise and he shrugged Mohinder's hands off for no other reason than the fact that he was worked up.

He took a breath, wished the pounding would go away, and started speaking. "Look, just - don't you get what they're doing?" he hissed, turning towards Mohinder again, one hand on the desk like he was still bracing himself against it. "They're keeping us out of the way. That has to be it. If they're working for the Company ..."

Mohinder was all trust, at times. Matt was the opposite. Right now he could see several ways this could end badly with either or both of them dead. He was going to say something like that, probably, when he stepped closer to Mohinder. But when he really looked at him, he seemed to recoil into himself instead.

He looked upset. Matt hadn't seen that look on him before. He didn't know what to say or do in response to it. He kept eye contact but was silent, feeling his head throb with every damn heart beat, but ... well.

He shook his head, in the end, and glanced away.

"Sorry", he muttered, but seemed to mean it.

Mohinder's eyes immediately shifted. He was pent up, frustration and terror and sorrow and very poignant feelings of guilt had collided inside of him. Screaming was a good way to let it out, but Mohinder was just a little too soft spoken for that and the tears were already coming any way. Americans had such issue with crying. Rather than being therapeutic or a valve to release pent up energy, they saw it as weak. Confusing. He was too tired to play into Matt's stereotypes right now. A blink of long lashed eyelids caused the first in a string of droplets to trace down his cheeks; first the left, then the right. He turned his face away too the moment Matt shoved him off.

Mohinder didn't really understand the need for the other man to exist in an island unto himself. He'd cleaned stabbing over stitches and staples for nearly a month when Matt first came into his care from the hospital. He'd never complained about that--

Then again, it did set off a lot of arguments. Could that have just been Matt's discomfort with closeness? Was it something else? Mohinder was in no mood to try and pick apart his flatmate's psyche right now.

He rubbed a hand across his eyes and gave Matt the space he craved. His posture was awkward, shoulder back but head still down. His fingers tangled in curls that had seen much better days.

"Just-- Just sit down before you hurt yourself even more." Mohinder has his own island. He was very use to existing alone. And yet, give him a home to return to where there were two people genuinely happy to have him there and...something had changed.

Matt could hear more than half of that in the space between them. His mind was still open - blocking things out was a conscious effort he hadn't even thought to pull off right then. And he didn't like listening to those thoughts but only partially because it made him awkward. The other reason was because Mohinder had it wrong.

"I'm fine", he dismissed the request, fingers once again finding the way to his temples as he felt Mohinder's thoughts build. He shook his head again like he was trying to shake it all off. Everything. There were a lot of things he wanted to disappear right now.

"It's not- it's not that", he started explaining, because now he felt like he had to, didn't want that look on Mohinder's face when he looked at him. "Look, I'm bad at this, alright? Janice, she ..." Cutting himself off, he changed directions. He didn't like talking about her. How their relationship had ended still stung him deeply. "Point is, I know you're feeling ... guilty", he said, finding the word from Mohinder's mind. "I get that. I don't think you're weak, Mohinder. I just ... I can't let anything happen to you. You and Molly."

Though Janice had been frequently angry with Matt for accidental -- or otherwise -- scoping out of her mind, Mohinder was less bothered by it. He'd been a human yo-yo once, hadn't he? Being held captive by those with abilities was more a scientific privilege than it was a violation of his personal space. Hadn't he originally felt that way when Sylar stopped the bullet? If only for a second, before feat overwhelmed him? Mohinder was a strange fellow in many ways. And very much his father's son.

He did not, therefore, jump immediately on Matt for the mind reading. When you were involved in any way with a telepath, you just had to expect that to happen fairly frequently. Of course, that didn't stop him from clicking his thoughts to Hindi as a general hand slapping.

There was something about Matt's confession that did something to him. When people cared, openly, honestly (or even lied really, he could rarely tell at first) about how they felt about him, it was almost impossible for Mohinder not to mirror it, even if it got it so often wrong.

Face in profile to Matt, Mohinder kept his eyes down and his breathing even. "I suppose I might mention that I'm not a replacement for your wife, but Molly is our daughter, in my mind at least, and you two are my family."

Could this little half confession be the reason Matt had never moved into his own flat? One where he had an actual bed and not the sofa?

Misunderstanding would be the death of the Indian one day.

There was a puff of air from Matt when Mohinder pointed that out, the first part - not a snort, not quite a laugh, but something that sounded both disbelieving and amused. Not a replacement for his wife -- that was putting it mildly. Matt had been well aware of the differences between Mohinder and Janice the moment he'd been hit in the back of the head with a fire extinguisher.

The problem was that Matt often had trouble deciding which life he liked better. Mohinder infuriated him almost as often as he didn't, but when they got along they had a much more comfortable rapport than he'd had with Janice for years. But he'd had years with her and cared deeply about her in so many ways ... Things were complicated with her because he didn't understand her, where he often thought he had Mohinder at least mostly figured out. Things were complicated in a wholly different way with Mohinder and Molly. Yet maybe for that reason, it was also easier to handle.

Our daughter. It had been "our girl" so often - the word daughter, that really weighed it down. Family. He kind of had to smile, just a little bit, with that disbelief. To think he'd be cut off from one and find another so damn fast.

"Yeah", he agreed, looking up at Mohinder more steadily, only halfway tuning out the stream of Hindi that acted as a backdrop to his spoken words. "You're right. That's just it, you know?" He gestured vaguely between them, then threw his arm out towards the door. "You protect your family. We can't just stay here."

The biggest difference might also be the sex-- Then again, Matt and Janice had been fairly dry as well. Mohinder wasn't a mind reader, however, and even if he had been, he probably wouldn't have pointed that out. A friend was different from a romantic partner to most people, but Mohinder tended to mould his own version of a relationship based on the way others reacted.

There was a reason he didn't get on much with others, really. He was hard, and understandably so, to deal with. Even before the incessant talking about things no one likely cared about.

Luckily, none of that ended up being a conversation to completely throw Matt for a loop with and Mohinder instead tilted his head back against the door to gaze up at the knob. "I don't see what choice we have for the moment," he pointed out. "They have weapons, ammunition...the key?"

Mohinder had no idea about Peter, about what he could do. Flight, sure. Exploding, yes. It didn't really occur to him to mention waiting for the younger of the three to come and play rescue mission. However--

"Do you have your phone with you?"

Matt was just about to mention Peter, actually, but not so much in a rescue-mission-sense - more that he wondered what the soldiers would do to him if they caught up with him, assuming this was all Company work. Mohinder's question caught him off guard though and he lost the train of thought when he gave the other man a puzzled look and went to give him the phone. He didn't quite trust his aim this time.

He tested the door handle while he was there - the door was locked solid and seemed sturdy - and went to check the windows behind the desk while Mohinder presumably fiddled with the phone in question.

"We could break a window." It was like thinking out loud, challenging Mohinder's idea that there was nothing else to do. The fall distance wasn't too bad since they were on the second floor, but it still would likely bring a fair bit of complications. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and tilting his head back against the bland-looking wallpaper. Those pills could take effect any minute now, thanks. "Could try the door, but uh ... opens the wrong way out. What are you doing?"

For the most part, Mohinder ignored Matt. He was too busy removing the battery from the back of the flip phone, holding the power button in, and shaking it mightily as if it might coerce a little bit of juice to magically be produced from empty cells in order to let him make one phone call.

Peter probably didn't have his phone on him and...well, it very likely exploded when he did, come to think of it. Luckily, the professor didn't really have to think up a contingency plan after all. There wasn't even a blip of a green light, no momentary spark of a screen lighting up.

It was dead.

"I was attempting to call someone," Mohinder said as blandly as Matt had been speaking, emulating the other without really meaning to before he pulled his long legs under him and pushed himself from the ground. The phone was returned before he glanced out the window. It was a good thing that he didn't fear heights.

They wouldn't even have to break the window...but Mohinder was likely the only one able to shimmy out without the destruction.

And what would he do then? Be rounded up by one of the soldiers? Maybe he could find Peter.

"This is...slightly terrifying. I miss nearly being hit by a car every time I cross the street," he muttered. "Life was simpler in Brooklyn."

When the phone was returned to him he checked it for himself, but he could already tell on Mohinder that there was little point. He snapped it shut, now even more irritated with the situation. Of course he'd forgotten to find a charger - and let's be real, in all this chaos he likely wouldn't have found one anyway - but it seemed almost comical that a dead phone just might be part of their downfall.

Well, if it came to that. It wouldn't.

He looked sideways at Mohinder with a small smirk, finding a bit of humor in the way he'd phrased that particular bit of homesickness.

"Never thought you'd miss the Big Apple, huh?"

"I was quite content to remain in India for the remainder of my life," he admitted. Just because he had been fairly well travelled did not mean at all that Mohinder wasn't the sort of man to find happiness in one place. He'd been thrilled to have a place in New York to work not because it meant being able to do consistent research, but because it felt like home.

Brooklyn, he finds almost incredulous to realise, had become just as India had been. A place to put down roots. He'd been happy with his makeshift family in their too small flat with glitter all over everything and beer cans lining the door of the refrigerator in a kitchen still pockmarked by reminders of when Sylar nearly killed him there the first time.

It'd been much less frightening with the other two there. And though he couldn't get the blood stains completely off of the ceiling, it didn't matter.

"But yes, strangely enough-- When we get back there, I think we should find a larger flat. Your salary as a detective should allow us a bit of extra wiggle room on the location. Closer to Molly's school might be nice."

This was the sort of conversation Matt probably wished he could have had with Janice rather than a too smart to live professor with a penchant for being abnormally interested in him.

Mohinder's smile faded out slightly as he looked back at Matt...looking at him. The corner of his mouth quirked up again almost immediately. His thoughts seemed to mellow out too. "Any way, am I shimmying down the...nonexistent drain pipe?" Oh...this might hurt.

Matt was fairly confused that the topic was even brought up. It had less to do with Janice and their past and more to do with the fact that they were in lockdown in a quarantine zone.

Interestingly, that topic had never seemed to be breached before this, either. There was the agreement that Matt got to stay with Molly because she needed both of them, of course, and when Mohinder started travelling it had made sense for Matt to stick around. And to then just kind of ... continue doing so. But there hadn't been any discussion about the future. There'd often been that undertone of "for now", the expectation (and reluctance to face it, in a way) that things were going to change at some point.

For Mohinder to more or less say that he was welcome to stick around long-term that way, that was something he wasn't sure how to respond to at all. So he blinked and opened his mouth to say something and then just kind of mutely nodded, still trying to figure out where that had come from, exactly.

And then, uh.

"Wait- what?"

Sorry, Mohinder, you're being way too confusing at the moment.

Too many thoughts, too many things to say. Mohinder sometimes forgot that, even for a telepath, Matt might have trouble following his stream of consciousness. It took a moment to determine that the detective did not mean to question the decision to move some place larger when they settled back home and into a proper routine again with Molly.

"Our escape...?" He tilted his head very slightly, eyebrow arching while he made a very small gesture towards the window. To emphasise his point, he even undid the latch and pushed the window up as far as it could go. And that? That wasn't really all that far, now that he looked at it. He could have Matt feed him through on his stomach, feet first and perhaps lower him as much as he could until the fall was six feet? Perhaps seven.

Mohinder was terrible with distance calculations.

"The real question is: how will I rescue you once I'm out there?" he mused out loud, as if this method of egress had already been decided upon.

Okay, so. While Matt was perfectly aware that there existed a mischievous side to Mohinder (it was made all too clear whenever he teamed up with Molly to poke fun at him) he'd not expected anything quite like this.

"I wasn't- man, you're serious ..."

He stroked his hands slowly over his face as his headache made itself known again before he leaned out to look at the drop himself.

More like seven feet. Probably not six.

The sun was still high in the sky but the areas visible from the window looked all too deserted. That didn't mean there wouldn't be soldiers coming from every which way the moment they dropped down.

Okay, Matt didn't quite believe that. But seeing Mohinder all but ready to jump head-first into some bushes was incredibly surreal. It was probably messing with his head just a touch.

"Right, um. Probably by opening the door if you think you could just- go back inside. Breaking the entire thing is still an option ... draws attention, though."

Go...back inside. Well, would everyone know he was meant to be under lock and key? Had it merely been a safety issue with potentially rioting sick people? Mohinder could just play it cool! He could just stroll back through the building as if he was meant to.

Probably. He'd-- Not...fooled...anyone. Ever. With any of his lies. Save for poisoning Sylar. That had been mostly due to the other's hubris though.

"Right! Well...hold onto my hands and try to get me as low as possible before you drop me." They had to find Peter, but for the moment, Matt was his priority. Once they were free of lockdown, they needed to figure out where the people with white bracelets were going and they had to get in touch with Noah somehow.

Perhaps borrow uniforms? Viral hazmat suits?

He'd seen too many films.

Mohinder swallowed and climbed up onto the sill. "Dear God, help me," he muttered.

Matt watched the little climb with a dubious expression, but he kept close, ready to reach out if Mohinder needed assistance at any point. Then, unbidden, he snorted out half a laugh.

"Definitely too many films", he agreed, touching Mohinder's shoulder when the other man crouched down, then moving to grip his arms more for the sake of stability and ... well trust, really, than actual support at the moment. There was a readiness in the act, too. He was a cop; he tried to be prepared.

He was looking out the upper portion of the window for a moment as Mohinder settled before he focused properly on him and was almost about to say something about how really, he didn't have to do this, but then thought of something else and told his friend very seriously, "Think loud enough for me to hear, alright?"

He wanted to be able to keep track. Maybe he could even help if something happened so long as he knew what was happening.

"That won't be a problem," Mohinder replied with a grin half obscured by worry. If he falls wrong, if the scraggly looking bushes scratch something important (like an eye, perhaps), they're done for. But he wants to do this. Matt just said it not too long before. You protect family.

He wanted Matt to stay in his family after all. He hadn't lied when he said he trusted him. Mohinder trusted the larger man more than he really knew what to do with.

Kneeling on the outside ledge, facing the building, Mohinder took hold of one of Matt's hands and slowly dangled himself over the edge. The ledge dug painfully into his chest as he gripped at Matt's other wrist firmly.

If he could be lowered just a little more--

He realised a little too late that he'd be falling blind and tried not to panic before he let go. A soft, 'ooph' sort of yell left his throat as he dropped and landed. A few scrapes, some leaves in his hair but--

I'm alive! Loud enough?

It was in all honestly completely agonizing, the way-too-long wait between the fall and Mohinder's voice in his still somewhat sore mind. Matt had even watched him move with held breath. When he finally got the okay, he let that breath out slowly in a drawn-out sigh and leaned on the window sill, staring down at Mohinder until he got eye contact. He didn't think Mohinder would lie about any complications in this case, but being alive was broad enough to not really say anything, and he just really needed to see him move for himself before he felt completely calm.

But he seemed okay. That was cause for a very genuine relief.

Once satisfied, he motioned at him to go go go and closed the window, checking the streets for any kind of activity. There wasn't really none, but it was hard to tell if that was true for the rest of the area at the moment. And that might actually make it even more difficult to Mohinder if nobody else was out and moving anyway.

... and as Mohinder disappeared from view Matt felt immediately less happy with the plan. If there even was a plan. He hated waiting games.

He watched the street and kept an ear out for the corridor, wanting to know about any kind of activity, but his mind was trying to stay touched to Mohinder's. It was the most important thing right then.

Around the front of the school, it was just as empty. There weren't the soldiers that Matt had run into when he was escorted back. A cluster happened to be over by the tent in the field but they were just standing there, posture perhaps slightly tense but Mohinder didn't linger to try and figure out what they were doing. He pushed open the door and moved through the hallway toward the stairs to the second floor. There was commotion in that direction but Mohinder just decided to go with it. He opened the door--

"Move!" One soldier knocked him almost violently out of the way, clearing a path for half a dozen men in hazmat suits carrying stretchers. Dead. Mohinder didn't even have to stop and check them. All dead.

Another group of soldiers were almost right behind them. Mohinder slipped through and crawled along the wall to the landing. He probably should have headed right to the science lab, but instead, he had to see the sick for himself. Soldiers were arguing at the end of the hall about having enough room in the morgue tent. And about when their superiors would pull them out. No one even looked at Mohinder as he stared at them. He was so far under their radar that they didn't notice him at all.

Lucky too, considering the faint voices coming out of the helmets were all violent and terrified. "We should just fire bomb the town!"

That was all Mohinder needed to duck back down the hallway. He could hear feet moving above him, likely soldiers tasked to bring down bodies from the upper floors. It was time to get Matt. It was too late for Bennet.

Finally outside the door, Mohinder rattled the knob. "Matt?" he hissed. "No key!"

It had been an interesting little exercise to try to keep track of Mohinder's thoughts even when he couldn't see him. It hadn't been successful for a very long time at all before Matt gave up and alternated between sitting by the desk and pacing the room, always keeping his mind open for any changes. That was something Mohinder would probably love to know and prod at some other time, the fact that Matt at times instinctively relied more on hearing thoughts than trying to actually hear the people thinking them.

And while Matt did catch enough thoughts and footsteps to know that there were definitely people still in the building there was alarmingly little activity outside of this particular door. It was probably a good thing, and it made sense given the room's location in the building, but it still kept Matt on his toes. He'd much rather know something than not. Silence meant you didn't have a place to begin.

So when he recognised Mohinder's thought patterns he breathed a sigh of relief and rushed to the door, meeting him. Not that the update was all that optimistic. If it had been a colleague, a cop or a fed, he'd have just told them to kick the door in, but he didn't think Mohinder could do it and definitely not without someone noticing.

"Get Peter", he said back, hushed and quick. They needed to find him anyway, if they were going to figure out what was happening and make a difference.

Get Peter. Mohinder stared at the door for a moment and actually thought about asking one of the soldiers for a key instead. Thankfully, the thought was dashed from his head almost immediately after it came to mind. Sometimes he did realise that his ideas weren't entirely fantastic.

Finding Peter still seemed impossible. He hadn't seen him since the man pushed him away that morning with a force all too like Sylar's for Mohinder's comfort. If he's still in that mood, who knew what might happen?

There were still soldiers running the dead from the upper classrooms to the makeshift morgue but no one seemed to think to stop him. Hopefully that meant being locked in hadn't been any executive order, just an attempt to protect him from the sick.

Soldiers sometimes didn't always think things through either.

Standing outside with his lab coat and his name tag, he looked from the field towards the main road across the parking lot still filled with cars from teenagers that never got to leave school that day or parents that initially, voluntarily, brought their families here.

He blinked when he saw Peter sitting against a tree within view of the tent, head in his hands, and rushed across the lot to him. "Peter--"

It still took him half an hour to get through to the man and therefore, to get back to Matt. He's somewhat surprised that Peter ends up taking the door from the hinges rather than simply unlock it but-- Well he supposed in the end that he might do the same. Picking a lock, even with telekinesis, sounded difficult.

Peter looked bad. If he had slept at all it couldn't have been for many minutes - the darkness beneath his eyes and the redness in them clearly told of both exhaustion and grief, but he still stared at them with that grim frown and on-edge expression.

Matt gave him a lingering look to sort of assess that, but ultimately just gave him a grateful pat to she shoulder when he exited the room, very happy to be outside of it. Peter looked less like he might snap and more like he just wanted to break something and there was a difference between the two. Especially now when the sorrow was starting to show.

Mohinder didn't look hurt. Still somewhat shaken, but not hurt. Matt turned to him, voice low. "We gotta move. I don't know who's calling the shots, but whatever's going on, the soldiers are getting antsy. How's it look outside?"

That question mostly directed to Peter. Little had happened in their half-hour absence, but the bits and pieces Matt had caught from the people moving through the corridors had seemed either shaky or way too darkly determined.

Peter looked between them. If his brother hadn't just died he might have dropped a remark about a locked-in situation, but his answer was in a fairly clipped tone. "Bad. It's spreading fast." A brief nod to Mohinder, who would have seen it too: "They don't even know where to take the dead."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Zonked again. :(

haha, no worries. c:

no subject

no subject