seekevolution | Quarantine

Quarantine

News had a way of spreading a little too quickly. The moment Nathan had fallen at the press conference, media began having it's field day. Mohinder paid little attention.

He arrived at Odessa fourteen hours after the incident, severely jet-lagged and with a computer pre-loaded with all of the information that the Company thought he'd need. Mohinder had been down this road before, though never with such dire circumstances. The Shanti Virus was a subject near and dear to his heart, though it was far less stressful when all he needed to cure it was a bit of blood. Even though it was his own blood, at least he felt as if he was doing something.

Knowing from experience that not everything was black and white anymore, Mohinder kept his laptop and medical kit close at hand and made his way to the quarantine line with a grim look in his redrimmed black eyes. "Mohinder Suresh," he said, forgetting his title again for just a moment. "Doctor. You need to let me through."

The National Guard service man looked wary before radioing it in through the barricade. It was tense. Mohinder's shoulder bag slipped twice and he nearly dropped his sample kit. "All right, cleared to go in. Good luck, doctor."

Mohinder nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. He'd gone from New York to India and back again in two days, bringing Molly to stay with his mother. After what Sylar did to her, again, he could not risk leaving her in anyone else's care. Not with Matt gone.

Seeing the man, however, after he'd just gone off on this quest to find his father at the expense of helping him with a child they both sort of promised to look out for, did not make Mohinder smile. If anything, it only made the lines on his face etch in more deeply. He stood in front of him, looking as tired as Mohinder felt, ill fitting clothing a bit more rumpled than usual. Never mind, of course, that Mohinder had done his fair share of leaving too on his attempts to bait the Company through lectures across the globe. "Do I have a lab yet?" Mohinder asked. No greetings. No necessities. That's what happens when you abandon people, Matt.

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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.

It took Mohinder a little longer to figure out what Matt meant than he perhaps would have liked but knowing his memories and his mind were open and knowing what Matt had seen were two different things. Mohinder narrowed his eyes slightly, unconsciously mirroring the head tilt Matt did when he was puzzling through a person's thoughts, until black eyes widened so abruptly that they could have well just fallen from between heavily, long lashed eyelids and rolled to the floor.

It had been bad enough to be vaguely aware that his dupe by Zane had become public knowledge. But that?--

"Yes, Matt," Mohinder spat. "Upon learning Zane Taylor was actually lying dead in Virginia and that the person I might have fancied a bit was actually the man that killed my father, I was willing to overlook those particular personality quirks and see if I could swing myself a date!" He probably should stop yelling, just in case anyone heard them. "What's more, I'm actually a closet masochist and his willingness to break a few ribs and kill Peter in front of me was quite the turn on!"

"That's not -!"

Matt pushed away from the desk and went up to the other man. Not quite close enough to be intrusive, but enough to hopefully lower the volume, something he also tried to accomplish by hissing instead of yelling in turn.

"I'm sorry, okay? Okay? Calm down!" He threw an arm out towards the door to show exactly why that might be a good idea. "I didn't mean it like that! I'm just ... no, just listen ..." He seemed to struggle with how to word whatever it was he wanted to say, but finally said somewhat quickly, "You can't help it sometimes, alright? Liking- people who are bad for you."

He'd seen it at work, heard talk around the station; abuse, violence. People protecting their assailants. Had lived it, to some degree. He wouldn't want to put Janice in that category at all but he remembered being a kid and desperately wanting his father's approval despite the way he'd hurt both Matt and his mom. Maury hadn't been Sylar. But Matt believed you couldn't control emotion.

"Look, I- Sylar's a monster, Mohinder. He needs to be taken down. I need to make sure he can't hurt us."

Edited 2014-01-20 20:41 (UTC)

Mohinder wasn't a child, Matt. He wasn't a teenage girl suffering from love-sickness. "You're acting as if I don't understand that. No one wants to see Sylar put down more than I do," he growled. More growling? Mohinder's teeth flashed so very white against his skin, lips peeling back. It seemed as if when he spoke low like that, his velvety voice really could only purr or growl, there were very little in between tones to use for his range.

He stood unconsciously on his toes as Matt came closer. They liked to hiss in one another's faces, if this continued dance proved anything at all. Matt was just so physically imposing that Mohinder needed something in his arsenal to back him up.

Witty retorts didn't exactly cut it all the time.

"He killed my father. He killed Molly's parents. He used me in order to get a map to each and every person on my father's list. You were on that list too, Matt!" he said, emotion weighing heavily on his mind. "He used me to kill a woman in Montana. If it wasn't for me, she'd be alive!"

Didn't Matt understand the guilt he carried?

How horrible it weighed on him?

How badly he wanted to do good in the world to make up for the evil he helped to unleash?

"I had been momentarily attracted to him. We didn't sleep together. We were not romantically linked in any other way. Stop acting like a jealous lover or my knight in shining armour. We're on the same page about this, Matt."

Matt didn't understand, not really. He couldn't because he'd never been that kind of target, hadn't been used that way. He was just a cop - it was his job to get bad guys and do good. He didn't carry the same guilt Mohinder did because he hadn't had people die. Matt had guilt, just a was a different kind.

But that didn't mean he didn't understand that it was there. It had been humming in the other man's mind since he'd set foot in Odessa, an undercurrent to every other thought, every action. And it was very very loud now with all the words backing it up.

"Fine", Matt said, dropping it, turning away. Mohinder had proved his point. It had been a bad move, besides. He'd earned the shouting. "Sorry I asked, it won't happen again."

Going back towards the desk mostly to have something else to do and look at, he peered out the window, still having mixed feelings about the lack of movement outside.

Peter wouldn't have any trouble finding someone to test it on, but managing it without anyone else allowing it or noticing, that's probably what was taking its time. Hopefully.

He didn't want Matt to just pull away. He really didn't. It felt like being left on his own, mind still hanging open like guts, was horrible. It wasn't what his friend (still friend after all of this?) likely meant and Mohinder was not the sort of man to beg. He was just about to sit down again when Peter returned.

The shake of his head left Mohinder feeling as if the blood was rushing out of his face and into his chest, a tightness there giving him no relief at all. "I don't understand," the Indian said before Peter was gone again.

He blinked, standing up, and grabbed another sample mixture of blood. He needed to see for himself.

That..was a terrible idea.

They -- because Matt would never be left in the lab himself with Mohinder running around like a loon -- didn't run into a single soldier on the way up to the fourth floor. And, unfortunately, not a single person on the floor floor at all. Where had they all gone? "I don't--" Oh. "Oh God..."

The third floor was the same story until the far wing. There were people struggling to breathe there, but no one tending them at all...save for Peter, kneeling by bedsides.

How could they all be... I don't understand. It's not enough time. How could it spread so-- Two days to kill an entire population...minus those that were immune? Mohinder looked so very defeated as he held one little boy's hand a few gasps away from dying.

The blood hadn't worked.

Nothing had worked.

Matt had to stop and lean against a wall to gather himself at the sight, eyes wide as he just ... tried to process it all.

It made sense, he realized quickly. The antsy soldiers, the quiet - no one wanted to be up here, had probably gotten orders to leave. It was part of ground zero. It made sense to lock everyone in to prevent passage in and out. It made sense to move the perimeter of the area out when they obviously had a bigger area to cover, if it wasn't just a neighborhood anymore, or a school, or block. No wonder everything was so still. So quiet. No wonder he hadn't heard many thoughts, because these people were all too feeble to even think with any strength.

If the officials had all fled, the situation was a lot worse than Matt would have wanted to consider. He punched the wall when he pushed away from it. It didn't make him feel any better.

Now when they were up there ... Mohinder had his lab coat and Peter was obviously trained, so with the three of them showing up, people started reaching out to them, murmuring pleas of help, thinking desperate thoughts about death and life and pain.

Matt hated it. He felt sick, he didn't know how to deal with this, felt lost where Mohinder and Peter looked much less so. He swallowed when he followed along the rows of the dead and dying. They couldn't have been abandoned long ago at all and that made the whole thing even worse. He wanted to get out of there, wanted to hunt down some officials and shake them up and have them clear things up and handle this properly.

Mohinder's racing mind was enough to tell him that protocol hardly applied anymore though. Peter was still angry, grim, hurting, but he treated the dying with so much care anyone else wouldn't have guessed that he was likely to go off doing something stupid if he wasn't needed here.

It's okay, Matt tried to ward off all he thoughts reaching for him. His head wasn't quite pounding anymore but it still hurt, putting forth any actual effort. Thing was, he knew it'd hurt even more to let any one of those dying pleas into his head. It's okay. Hang on. I'm sorry.

He followed Mohinder because he didn't know what else to do. He kept quiet, but he was staring. He looked bad and felt even worse when he watched Mohinder giving someone the blood transfusion again and it failed.

Mohinder tried until there was nothing left. Saving even one would have been worth it, but they were cut off and alone. It took another two hours for the last gasps of life to stop, until there was only stillness in the final room that the soldiers have left to their own devices rather than process them in the tent outside.

Had he known that Matt was instrumental in granting these people peace and calmness in their final moments, he might have given the larger man a hug, then and there, once he'd taken off his gloves and stood. Perhaps it was better for them not to reveal anything else for today. Matt could keep he secret of his telepathic powers. It would save a lot of yelling that no one actually had the power to do.

Peter ended up doing the majority of the reconnaissance as Matt and Mohinder sat silently on the stairs leaving into the high school. The Texas air was dry and warm, though sun would be setting soon. Mohinder's thoughts were more or less even keel, a litany of Hindi streaming through his mind. He was not religious but he recited sutras to himself any way.

Peter's face as as stoic as it had been for the last few hours when he returned. "There's no sign of anyone. They must have been helicoptered out."

Mohinder surprised. "That means that they have a decontamination centre they believe works. That's good news. They will come back for answers soon. Come back for survivors in a day or two. They must understand the incubation period."

Matt would have wanted to make the rounds with Peter, but he felt utterly exhausted. Sitting down with Mohinder in silence was a welcome change. Hell, the Hindi was a welcome change. So he breathed in quietly with his head in his hands, shoulder touching Mohinder's, and tried to find at least a little bit of peace.

It worked, for a while. But when Peter came back with his theory and Mohinder reacted the way he did, Matt shok his head, looking up.

"Or they just bailed. Saved their own asses."

Peter looked like he was more inclined to be on Matt's side, and Matt realized that he didn't necessarily like that, given Peter's mindset at the moment.

"We could be left for dead", Peter started. His thoughts were louder than Mohinder's. There was nothing else but the three of them. It was a ghost town.

"We have to stay here", Matt muttered in turn. "We could be carriers."

The very subtle touch of Matt's arm, more the heat and the presence than anything else, had nearly lulled him into a calmness. He tried to tap into that, to hold onto a little piece of serenity as he looked from Matt to Peter and back again. "Matt's right. We have been breathing this air. We've touched the victims. None of us are sick and it's been too long now for any of us to get sick. We need to let the virus incubation period pass again, perhaps twice, before it's safe to go. And even then, we'll need new clothes, we'll need to have showered as well as possible. The virus is airbourne, but I've seen them jump mediums before. For all we know, we could carry it in the oils of our skin."

Mohinder was asking for four more days here, four days before he thought it safe for any of them to leave. Peter, obviously, was the only one capable of ignoring that, considering the landslide and barricades effectively kept anyone from leaving on foot. Mohinder gave him a very significant look. Asking Peter for so long when Sylar was out there--

Four days was a very long time to let a murderous asshole loose. Mohinder knew that, even as he put a hand to Peter's arm. "Please."

The hospice nurse pulled away from Mohinder and teleported out of sight. Mohinder darted forward as if to snatch him, but it was too late. He swallowed, throat dry. When was the last time he'd had water.

"I hope for everyone's sake he is still somewhere behind the barricade." Mohinder ended up sinking back down to the stairs and turned sorrowful, exhausted eyes towards his friend. "What do we do now?" In all honesty, Mohinder knew the answer. Find shelter. Find food and water. Rest as much as possible. Stay away from any dead zone as much as possible because death brought other diseases. He just wanted someone to take over for awhile.

"We'll look for him tomorrow", Matt said tiredly, eyes fixed to where Peter had last been. He should have been faster, probably. Tried to make him stay put. It was difficult to make another telepath do anything, but he knew it was possible. He'd trapped his father, after all.

He was silent for a while, going over that, before he stood and turned towards Mohinder, offering a hand to help pull him to his feet.

"Let's get away from here."

It was a start. The sun was on its way down - not quite setting yet, but it was approaching dinnertime fast, and although Matt didn't feel particularly hungry right now he knew he'd regret it later if he didn't eat something. The same went for Mohinder. The thirst was making itself known too but it was difficult to feel like any of that was actually important when you were surrounded with at least triple digits worth of dead people.

So he said it out loud, that they should probably eat something, and so began the all-too-silent walk through the deserted streets. It was rare, but blood tracks or splatter could be spotted on occasion, grim reminders of all life that was already lost. Some cars were left unlocked on sidewalks, hazardly parked. Some houses with doors broken in or otherwise ajar.

For the most part, though, there was surprisingly little sign of what had happened. It was almost enough to trick you into thinking things were just eerily quiet, that people had left. That they'd be back.

There wasn't a whole lot to say about that, but when distant birdsong could be heard, it did break the monotone and ease the melancholy slightly.

It looked nice, really. A slice of Americana. All of the houses along the blocks they passed were just like the last with different painted shutters or different siding. A bird bath sat in front of one, a trellis of roses climbed up the side of another. They were just different enough to distinguishable but under it all, it was the same wood, the same sort of small, lost lives of the families that once fought and loved under their roofs. Mohinder didn't mean to wax poetic about it, but this little town looks nothing like the one he'd left behind in India. The colours were so subdued. And if American sitcoms were to be believed, neighbours really didn't know each other. Perhaps he was just prone to melancholy when he was so run down. The thought made him smirk.

An hour of walking was just about too much. He still had a pint's less blood in his system and almost nothing had been done to restore it. If anything, his little James Bond drop from the window that morning could have just exasperated his condition. Mohinder was anemic. His legs were giving out. He actually needed to grasp for Matt to keep himself upright.

"I hate to say this," and he did, "but we need to... It's not stealing. It's surviving. I've money on me. We'll let it for when people are allowed to return for the use of their beds and their food."

Matt's mouth turned into a thin line, but he nodded. There was little else to do, no real options. Unless they wanted to sleep on couches among dead people but that would be a hazard to both physical and mental health. He grabbed Mohinder's upper arm to help stabilize him as he looked around ... he didn't want to have to break in, if he could help it.

But one of the houses nearby had one of those slightly-open doors, and he nodded that way before he let go of the other man.

"Hang on", he said. "I'll check it out."

Worst case scenario, there'd be dead people in there. Or worse still, ones that were dying. He came up to the door past the little pathway and the small stairs at a small jog and opened the door carefully. He called out, got no answer. A quick flick of a switch showed that the electricity still worked, thankfully ... whoever was in charge probably hadn't expected anyone to survive, was his grim reasoning. He called out again, went up the stairs, listened for thoughts.

Nothing.

He met Mohinder halfway between the road and the house, gave a small nod. "Electricty still works", he said, even if Mohinder would have probably already seen that from the windows. "Come on. Let's check the fridge."

Almost too tired to be excited about a soft couch to sit on and the potential of actual food for him to eat, Mohinder still shuffled right into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator, ignoring smiling faces of the family that use to live here stuck under colourful magnets. He didn't want to know if he'd seen them, if they passed through his lab. Instead, he focused on the contents. Milk. Eggs... The expiration date on those were fine. He could have the first, but didn't typically eat the latter. That didn't mean he couldn't make Matt something a little more protein efficient. He was still suffering from the headache after all. Setting those on the counter, he squeezed tomatoes from the crisper and found some mushrooms as well. Omelet then.

Matt was set.

For himself, there were frozen meatless hamburger patties. Someone must be health conscious as Mohinder didn't expect the average Texan to really care about vegetarianism due to all of the cattle farms in the state. While the meal wouldn't be great, it was good enough.

It was likely better than Matt himself would have done. Mohinder had always been a bit of a chef when it came to their small family. Molly's lunches were often elaborate, something he put together each night special. He use to carry out a napkin and a pen for Matt to write the girl a note to tuck into it, claiming that these things were important to make sure she was well adjusted.

He should have called her while he had the chance, he realized, flipping the omelet onto a plate and telling Matt to dig in. His own meal was already warmed in the microwave.

It was the first time they'd sat down to really eat together since Molly started having her nightmares. Conversation was, understandably, limited for half of the meal until it gave Mohinder enough energy to try and smile.

"You know, when I said we ought to look for a larger place, this wasn't entirely what I meant... But do you think we should move out of the city? I know, for your work, you have to be nearby, but do you think we could afford a place with a yard?"

It was strangely easy to fall back into that routine. Mohinder usually cooked - Matt could manage a few things, but none that Mohinder liked all that much - and that was fine by him, since he didn't much like cooking anyway. He'd never learnt. A lot of his childhood he'd been handed some change to feed himself with and pizza or takeout had always been the easiest option. That became routine, to some extent even after he got married.

He liked Mohinder's cooking. In part because there was usually something new about it, tastes and dishes Matt had never encountered before.

He set the table while Mohinder did his thing, grabbed the milk from the fridge and a pair of oranges from a nearby fruit bowl. He wasn't normally big on fruit but he knew Mohinder was, and even he could see the positive effects of some vitamins right now.

The omelet was really good. The topic for conversation caught him off guard again, but the nature of Mohinder's smile made it so he had to answer.

"You think we need a yard?" he shot back, eyebrows subtly raised. Then he shrugged as he poked at the last of the omelet with his fork. "You're talking to a city boy, Mohinder. I don't know anything about houses."

"I suppose that's what playgrounds are for," Mohinder answered. He'd grown up in a city too, though his parents had money enough that allowed his father do to whatever it was he wished. Their home had been large and isolated behind walls. Mohinder had a garden to play in, something not many people from India might be able to claim, but the city was just over head, spreading out beneath the hill.

Mohinder paused to peel his orange, fiddling to free a segment while he thought about it. A city had unique opportunities for a girl like Molly. It afforded her more than suburban living. But in contrast, isolation would be safer.

"I suppose we'll have to look at our finances--" This was the sort of conversations couples with children had at the dinner table every day across the planet. It wasn't strange, to Mohinder at least, to have this sort of discussion now. He was in it for the long haul with Matt and Molly, at least until Matt decided to move on and--

Well, Molly would likely do better with the older man. No. He'd not think about any of that now. He'd eat his orange and take a much needed shower and go to bed.

"And consult with Molly, of course. I'd rather she be happy and comfortable, but I would also like sturdier doors between us and whatever passes for music to children these days." He stood to put his plate in the sink. He'd clean up tomorrow. "I'm going to use their shower and crawl into bed. Should we...lock up?" Stick together? Take turns keeping watch? How did this work?

Matt caught that bit of doubt more clearly than he would have liked. He ate the last bit of omelet almost guiltily, watching Mohinder as he spoke. Did he really think about those things? About who Molly would or wouldn't be better off with? It was ... definitely not right.

He cleared his throat when he stood, too, putting the milk back in the fridge. There was a children's drawing of a family on it and it made his heart hurt very very deeply. The sense of defeat and loss and failure was all too clear in the air. All these dead people.

He missed Molly. He really did.

"Yeah. Yeah, we'll do that. Then let's just sleep. I'll get this."

There didn't seem to be much point in keeping watch. They were both exhausted but they'd also both learnt to sleep lightly. Matt didn't think anything would happen without either of them realizing.

It was only when Mohinder was partway upstairs that Matt called out, feeling the need to say what was on his mind. "Hey, Mohinder?" It was a fairly tentative thing and there was a bit of a pause before he went on, not quite looking at him. "I wouldn't- take her away from you, you know." He didn't really like the word take but couldn't think of any other right then. He shrugged, leaning against the sink. "She loves you."

It gave the geneticist pause and he turned slightly to look over his shoulder and smile. "She loves us both," Mohinder corrected. His smile was genuine. Worry or not, he wanted only what was best for Molly. "You have a steady, well paying job. She can pass for your daughter legitimately. If it came right down to it, she ought to stay with you. But that's a discussion for another time." He yawned against his own shoulder and ascended two more stairs before pausing again. "But thank you."

The shower was easily the most amazing thing Mohinder had experienced in days. Two transatlantic flights and a day and a half tending to the dying and playing action hero had given Mohinder a bit of an odour that was more than happily washed off. He scrubbed his hair as well, sung a bit under the spray, and wrapped himself in a towel around his waist so that he could see if there was anything in the closet of the Master bedroom he could borrow.

Unfortunately, the trousers were more Matt's size and shape and having done Matt's laundry enough to know his inseam and waist measurements, he set out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for his friend.

It didn't really help him (the woman was too petite even for Mohinder), but a fresh dressing gown hung in the closet, a very neutral shade of black, and until he did his laundry, it would just have to do. "Matt?" he called at the top of the stairs, "I'm leaving a change of clothes for you in the bathroom. They ought to fit!"

It felt good to be domestic again. Mohinder hadn't realized how much he'd loved it until it was no longer part of his regular schedule.

Matt spent that passage of time doing the dishes, mostly to have something to do. After putting things back where he'd found them he ate his orange while he watched the darkness spread outside, the sun having set while they were eating. A glance at the wall clock told him it was just past eight. He couldn't quite remember the last time he'd actually gone to bed at a reasonable hour and he felt more than weird thinking about it now in a stranger's home and with hundreds of people dead, but really, what could he do about it?

Nothing, was the answer, at least not at the moment. So he tossed the orange peels away, smiled a little and shook his head at how Mohinder couldn't seem to help himself from going right back to their Brooklyn routine, and went up the stairs after locking the front door and hitting the kitchen lighs.

He said a quick thanks before he took a shower himself. It was beyond soothing, eased the kinks and tension out of his neck and shoulders and helped with the headache he'd been fighting for so damn long. He felt a lot better when he dried himself off, threw on the clean t-shirt and went back into the bedroom. Really, he felt about ready to collapse.

At that point it was easier to pretend the people who really lived there weren't dead, and for the moment, that was a truly welcome thing.

He yawned and stretched an arm over his head, the other barely covering his mouth.

"'S not even nine", he observed with the yawn still in his voice, only to have it re-emerge the moment he sat down on the bed. "God, I need to sleep. I'm going to fall over."

Mohinder didn't question, didn't even think to question Matt's sudden presence. There were two other bedrooms to choose from but sticking together was just something that came naturally in a situation like this. Mohinder had already changed the bed, put on fresh sheets from the closet, and was tucked inside of them, damp curls hanging limply against the skin of his long neck. He'd also ended up finding a pair of yoga pants during the great sheet hunt (and given the waist, they had been maternity trousers) so was no longer just wrapped haphazardly in a dressing gown a bit too massive for his smaller form. He didn't bother to pick his head up off of the pillow, caramel coloured skin of bare shoulders standing in contrast to the pure white sheets tucked around, only stirred slightly to ask if Matt had shut off the lights downstairs.

He'd missed a bed, he decided, more than food and more than feeling safe. Comfort was something he would never look upon lightly again. Tomorrow the boredom would set in. There would be nothing to do but stay put. Perhaps attempt to search for other survivors. Maybe head down to Primatech. Mohinder wasn't sure that he actually wanted to see what was there. The small amount he'd heard from Bob had, frankly, scared him.

Mohinder gave a very small sigh as he pulled up the quilt to cover his nose the way dogs do with their tails in order to sleep. It was either cute, or strange, depending on your tastes.

There was that, and also the fact that one of those bedrooms was a kid's room and the guest room was down the hall. It made a lot more sense to stick together - and it was reflexive as well. For all their issues they still made a good team and ultimately wanted to be one, at least most of the time.

In the morning they had to look for Peter. And yeah, other survivors too. But until then there was little to do but sleep and Matt climbed into bed after hitting the rest of the lights. With another yawn he threw an arm over his eyes and was asleep within seconds.

It was light out when he woke up. For a moment he wasn't sure why that was, since the sun never hit the living room in their Brooklyn apartment from that particular angle and definitely not at that time of day, but that only meant he was wide awake when he figured out where he was. He'd slept for at least ten hours or so, and although he felt a lot better that still didn't make him feel quite rested. Still, though. It was a hell of a lot better than he'd felt for most of the previous day.

Stretching, he noted that Mohinder was already up and missing from the room, which didn't surprise him. He heard him downstairs and all seemed calm and so his theory that nothing would happen during the night was proven. Pulling on the new pair of jeans and switching his wallet and dead cell phone over to them, he then went downstairs, not quite awake enough yet to be grim about today's to-do-list.

Breakfast first.

"Mornin'."

"Good morning."

He'd seen Matt in all sorts of different ways at all times of the day and night: shuffling to the bathroom in boxers while he was trying to get Molly off to school, snoring on the sofa after midnight when Mohinder came in late from a shift, dutifully trudging out to the store for carrots or milk or bread at odd hours. It didn't stop him from glancing up at Matt when he entered the kitchen and smiling a little. Nice hair. It initially sounds like a mental tease. Ought to wear it more that way. Suits him. But no. Mohinder's thoughts are sincere.

Perhaps a little too personal, sure. But sincere.

It's cereal for breakfast today with toast and jam on the side. There's apple juice and coffee. At least by this point Mohinder is back in his clothing from yesterday, newly laundered. He's done Matt's wash as well, socks and underwear at least. It was all he could find in the bathroom after blearily extracting himself from where he had curled up at Matt's back sometime over the course of the night.

He'd been warm. Mohinder was a bit of an octopus. The Indian thought little of it.

He poured Matt a cup of coffee and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. "The television and radio are both out. The phone won't work either."

Wait, what?

Matt paused for a moment, not sure he'd heard that right, but when it dawned on him that he had he ducked his head and he didn't quite meet Mohinder's eyes when he sat down. It wasn't that it ... bothered him, exactly. Probably. It just wasn't something he'd heard from Mohinder before and it embarrassed him for some reason. Made him feel self-conscious.

Trying to ignore it, he reached for the cereal first, stifling yet another yawn with his hand as he nodded.

"So they cut communication, but not the electricity?" Something he had to assume given that the milk was still cold. That was odd. But he wasn't going to complain about that.

"Should look for a charger, when we're out today. Or other phones. We'll have to get a hold of Bennet again." Glancing up at Mohinder, he added in a much softer tone, "And Molly."

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