seekevolution | Quarantine

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."

"Forty-eight hours on the outset," Mohinder said, looking around the corner before moved towards the stairs. "Viruses don't move that quickly. It's acting like radiation sickness. The fever. The nausea. It's the most excelerated version of the strain I've ever seen and--" All Peter had to do was glance at him. "And that was the point," he supplied. "There's a potential cure. Noah Bennet's daughter--"

"Claire?!" Peter's hostility was frankly a little frightening to the Indian. "I have her power."

Mohinder's head tilted down but his eyes lifted for just a moment before he turned on his heels and ran back to his lab. Peter was on his heels, however.

"It won't work! Don't you think I tried to give my blood to Nathan again?!"

"You didn't have my blood to mix with it!" And this was the problem with groups. No one felt the need to tell everyone else anything. Mohinder's thoughts were erratic and guilt strewn and so very hopeful. "This cured the strain they gave to Sylar." What? He failed to mention that? And now it sounded like he happily cured their number one enemy?

Whoops.

"Sylar?"

Whether Peter or Matt said it louder probably didn't matter. It was Peter who reached out to grab Mohinder's shoulder and practically whip him around, but it was Matt who caught up, looked him in the eyes and got a read on him.

"He's alive?!"

It was fortunate that Mohinder wasn't a mind reader himself at that moment because two telepaths clashing into his mind wouldn't have been the least bit comfortable. Peter made to grab him by the collar, close in his face, reacting immediately.

"You cured him?" he growled, probably nowhere near as angry about the fact that Sylar was alive as he was taking his anger out on a different (but still deserving) cause. "He's out there?"

Matt, on the other hand, had different priorities. "Molly", he said immediately, less a question than an outright demand, keeping a hand out towards Peter's chest, trying to keep him from strangling the poor scientist. Molly was potentially the most valuable target Sylar had. And Mohinder had specificly asked him not to ask where she was, what had happened, to not read his mind - well, he would now, if Mohinder didn't offer something.

Mohinder had to deal with fear before. Walking into his apartment to find a strange woman cooking and Sylar sitting at the kitchen table that he and Matt and Molly had breakfast at was the most horrifying experience he'd ever had because he knew Molly was in the back bedroom. He could almost hear her behind the door and saw a shadow move of her small feet--

There was nothing Peter could do to him that would make him as afraid as he'd been almost three days ago now. Nothing. Peter wanted to growl in his face? The two telepaths wanted to pull all of his thoughts out at once? Let them. He gave Peter a shove that did little good.

"What the hell was I suppose to do?!" he shouted. "I opened the door and there he was. With Molly. The Company took away his powers, gave him a version of the virus--" And he'd had Mohinder's gun. "A version that would keep people with abilities from being able to access them. I had the cure. He knew it."

Even with Matt holding them apart, Peter was much stronger than Matt could ever hope to be and Mohinder was reaching levels of frustration that could very well make him shut down.

"What would you have had me do!?"

"Where is he?"

Peter shrugged Matt off without much difficulty and advanced on Mohinder. It was clear what Peter would have done in the situation. He hadn't managed to kill Sylar at Kirby Plaza where Nathan very nearly died. He hadn't killed Sylar in Odessa or in Brooklyn because Sylar had killed him first and now Sylar was alive and Nathan was dead. Something in that equation had to be fixed. Sylar was an easy target. Peter was showing teeth.

Matt's reasoning wasn't nearly as fractured, but then, nobody had died - he hoped, very sincerely, but Mohinder had said Molly was safe and he wouldn't lie about that, or if he had, there'd be hell to pay - and he'd actually gotten to sleep. To him, the list of priorities was easy to follow. First, make sure Molly was safe; second, everything else. It was difficult to ... to dig, to filter through memories, that was new too, he mostly just listened, but while he heard the memory of Molly's agonized whine (she would never have to make that sound again, ever) he also heard Mohinder's surprised but thankful voice telling someone that they'd saved them.

That was all he wanted to know.

He was tossed back to earth by the ominous thud of Peter shoving Mohinder against a wall, looking dangerously intense, and despite the pounding in his head Matt refocused his efforts.

"Peter!"

It was a yell to get his attention. It was quickly followed with a mental command to Back off.

Peter resisted it, much like he had the first time Matt had tried to push him. His mind darkly telling Matt's no made him grit his teeth, but he tried again. Back off, Peter. Let go.

It was like having his mind dragged across broken glass and Mohinder flinched. The pain was bearable but strange to have, nothing like a headache at all; his thoughts were just tore and left exposed to be sifted through. Peter was new at this and too angry to try a bit of finesse. Mohinder's thoughts of Sylar were a cohesive, heartsick sort of mess in his head already, after all. 'Zane' had been the first person he'd definitively met with a demonstrable power. They'd had long, intense conversations over coffee on their road trip. Zane had been shy...sort of. But well read. He'd been kind, he'd been interested in Mohinder's work.

And Mohinder thought himself lucky to make a friend like that. Perhaps he'd been attracted to the dark eyed, intense younger man too. Just a bit. Just the budding of attraction at least. It'd gone so sour after Dale, however. The ride back from Montana to Brooklyn had been agonizing. Mohinder was hurt. Betrayed. And then ruthless, too.

The tea. The drugging. The bullet-- Peter walking into the apartment in the middle of Sylar's playing with him like a cat with an injured mouse he wasn't quite ready to eat--

Hatred, lust, fear, betrayal, blackess-- There'd been so much, so much for Peter to wade through that he ended up spilling it all out by the time he got to the information he'd wanted. And what he wanted?

It was simply Mohinder's failure to be a good parent again, no matter how hard he tried.

In disgust, Peter did let Mohinder go and the scientist slipped to the floor, trying not to panic. It hadn't just been Peter holding him to the wall. Sylar's power had been there as well. And of course it was. Peter was channeling Sylar's emotions. Unlocking telekinesis was easy for him. Second nature.

Mohinder pressed his hands against his head to try and mentally pick himself back up. He'd never felt so exposed in his life.

Peter's hands balled as he looked back at Matt. "If he's out there, no one's safe."

When Matt had accepted to live with Mohinder and Molly, he'd taken Mohinder aside to tell him about what it was that he could do. Mohinder had figured that he had some kind of power since he'd been involved with the Company and was on Chandra's list, but the topic of that power hadn't exactly seemed appropriate to bring up when Matt was recovering from four bullets in the chest and a divorce. It had seemed the polite thing to do to say "You should probably know that I can hear what you're thinking" before you agreed to live with someone. In that same conversaton, Matt had pre-emptively promised he'd try not to hear anything personal.

Naturally, he'd overheard a few things. A fair few. But usually these were idle thoughts, note-to-selves and observations, and when they had been personal they'd been more along the lines of Mohinder's current state of mind. Feeling exhausted, guilty, homesick or those rarer moments when he'd found himself perfectly happy. Matt rarely commented on those kind of things when he caught them even if he'd on occasion try to help out if it was something bad. Sometimes, yeah, he'd brought those things up when they were fighting. But it was fighting dirty and it hurt Mohinder when he did and he tried not to.

Mohinder hadn't let many thoughts slip about Sylar - or Zane. Matt hadn't known they were the same person. And now there was a whole lot of additional information he'd never asked to see right at his feet and he couldn't help looking.

Again, though, he didn't say anyting about it even if he looked momentarily stricken when his eyes went to Mohinder. He tried to shake it off though. Those were things to deal with later. Sylar was something to deal with later. He had to get that through to Peter.

"Come on, Peter", he said, holding his hands up and approaching him slowly, like he would talk down a criminal. "Look around! No one's safe with this out there. What are you gonna do, go after him? Spread the virus? It won't bring Nathan back."

Peter's eyes narrowed dangerously but Matt kept going. He'd gotten a taste of the telekinesis earlier at the vault and wasn't looking forward to another round of that - or whatever else Peter could do - but he couldn't let him run off.

"Look, we'll fix it, alright? But we gotta do this first. We have to work together. Then we'll get Sylar. Trust me, I want him as badly as you do. Okay?"

He did, too. He was furious. But it had to wait.

Mohinder was just tired. When Peter agreed that yes, they could go after Sylar the moment Mohinder was done being useful to them, the Indian got to his feet and pulled the vials of blood out of the fridge. He felt numb, emotionally exhausted, and right now, he couldn't even think to fight the other two. He didn't have to be a telepath to know what they were thinking when they looked at him--

Or worse, didn't.

Neither of the other two were touched by personal tragedy at the hands of Sylar the way that Mohinder had been. He wasn't particularly close to his father, but Sylar still killed him, that still left a mark. And worse? He had no abilities at all, not like Peter. He couldn't protect himself from Sylar--

Either time.

As he sat at the desk, turning right the chair, to prepare to draw Peter's blood, his mind was filled with a buzz Matt might not have felt before. Sorrow, frustration, anger, contentment, enjoyment-- Yes, all of those emotions were healthy in reasonable doses.

Perhaps it was just that Peter had exposed too many nerves, perhaps it was just that a person's mind, already under stress, wasn't meant to be so open to others-- But Mohinder felt so violated and victimized. Matt had likely seen it in others before too. He was a cop, after all.

Strangely quiet, the geneticist took four vials of Peter's blood without a single word. He prepared the solution in the syringe like he'd done for Maya...and then for Sylar. It took a moment for his hands to stop shaking so he could offer the syringe to Peter without looking at him.

"You'll need a test case."

Oh yeah, Matt had seen that kind of thing before. He'd done that kind of thing before, been responsible for it. He was usually the good cop (wanted to be, tried to be), but when he'd forced Angela to tell him about Victoria Pratt he knew he'd damaged something. It wasn't surprising at all that Mohinder now tried to distance himself from Peter for doing basically the same thing. Matt was just hoping he wouldn't get the same treatment.

So when Peter nodded and left - with the distinct impression that he'd have slammed the door if it had still been attached to its frame - Matt remained in that uneasy silence. He wasn't sure what Mohinder even wanted to hear. He didn't want to outright admit that he'd seen everything Peter had pulled up, but at the same time ...

He went around to the desk and touched Mohinder's shoulder with a hand that was a bit more steady than he admittedly felt. "Hey", he said, hesitating. Mohinder's mind was almost crackling, like static. It wasn't right. "We'll figure it out."

Mohinder was better with a plan. Better with a goal. He tried to latch onto one, but it was slipping through his fingers. He almost jumped when Matt touched his shoulder and forced a smile instead. He was never hesitant when it came to physical contact, but it bothered him at the moment. It made him itch.

"We had Peter this entire time," Mohinder said, well aware that he was shifting the topic around, or perhaps attempting to play off his distress on something else. "I wasted so much time. People might not have died."

He busied himself cleaning up. That no soldier had passed their doorless lab yet didn't mean that one wouldn't soon enough.

"There ought to be enough here for two dozen people." And that was no where near enough.

Silence made it all the more awkward and Mohinder felt the pressing need to...explain. Not talking was ruining them and Matt might well be the only one left on his side in the world.

If he even was any more. "I have only ever tried to help," he said, a little defensively. He wasn't a bad person. And he didn't want to become one. "I'm not sure how to atone for what I've done and have been led to do. I'm-- I am very, very sorry, Matt."

Matt let him go and shifted to lean against the desk instead, arms crossed over his chest as he looked on as Mohinder picked at things, contemplating. Hoping the blood would really work but uncertain what it meant if it did. Could it be a bargaining chip? It should be. But you couldn't make Matt trust the company to save his life.

Then came the explanation, the apology. Matt frowned slightly, searching Mohinder's face. He didn't really have to since it was all in his mind, but he didn't want to add insult to injury.

"Yeah. I know."

He said it with enough certainty to be convincing, but there was still the tentativeness that clearly spoke of how uncertain he still was of the situation they were all in. And the ones they had been in, for that matter. But he did know, because the amount of regret in Mohinder's mind had been clear enough. And he'd heard it earlier in the day. The guilt.

"Look, we'll ... we'll stick together. We'll fix this. Figure Sylar out later." His expression was troubled for quite a few reasons now, and it took him another moment to voice one of them. "Just tell me you don't still ..."

He gestured vaguely, but thought Mohinder would get it. He looked a bit apologetic to ask, but at the same time wary of the answer - it was something he had to sort out. Needed to hear.

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject