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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"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."

Mohinder didn't notice any change in Matt at all, but he wasn't really looking at him either, eyes scanning the emptiness through the windows as he sipped at his coffee. He felt a little melancholy at the moment, not about the situation, so much as being unable to reach out to Molly to let her know he and Matt both were all right.

"I suppose," Mohinder said into his cup, "they only knocked out broadcasting stations. Let's hope they mean for this place to be inhabitable again." He wanted to believe the best. He wanted to think that this wasn't as terrible as it seemed.

Placing the cup on a napkin on the old, beautifully kept kitchen table, Mohinder once more looked at Matt. Perhaps it was a bit intensely. He did have a tendency to stare.

"Matt--" His thoughts were taking a turn for the darker to match his gaze. A very pregnant silence hung between them before Mohinder wet his lips and looked away again. "She's with my Mother. Should anything happen... Go to the University of Madras and have the office give you my mother's address."

He nodded slowly, taking that in, meeting Mohinder's eyes squarely despite the previous moment of awkwardness. It was important information and something he'd be sure to remember. He didn't miss the undertone, either - the unspoken if I'm hurt, the if I die.

He wasn't sure what to say to that but it should be clear that he understood. The pause that existed between them wasn't too bad but it ... yeah, it was heavy, it had to be.

After a moment, Matt asked, quite cautiously, "Wanna tell me what happened with Sylar?"

Except without the yelling. Without the tearing-up-your-mind. He was sorry about that, in retrospect, even if it had been mostly Peter.

How had talking about Molly switched to talking about Sylar? Again? Immediately, Mohinder's thoughts close down and shift. He'd been comfortable enough not to bother policing the language he thought in earlier, but now, his mind's automatically reverted to a more easily protected mode. After yesterday, he needed to.

Mohinder couldn't look at Matt, though he did spread his hands against the table and exhale through his nose. What more did Matt need to know? What had he seen?

Telling Matt the story -- his story -- took the better part of an hour. From hearing about his father's death after a class he was teaching, to tracking down the murderer to an apartment in Queens with a decidedly horrible hidden room, to being lied to by the murderer in order to get him to come down to Virginia--

"And that was knew," Mohinder had said. "Seeing someone able to disrupt the molecular bonds in metal, to melt it without heat? My research, my father's research, had all been summed up in this man. We spoke endlessly for the two day trip. Thinking back on it now, I imagine he knew how I was feeling. And he used that against me too."

Describing the near execution of his father's killer was even harder in many ways. Mohinder's desire for retribution, and what he was capable of when his mind was set, was a frightening thing, even for him. Matt, however, had to hear it, all of it, from the use of the brain-paralyzing drug to the two hours of torture after Sylar broke free of the Curare, nothing was left unmentioned, not even how Mohinder had brought Peter's body back to Nathan and his mother.

"He called me, you know," he said, looking at his palms. "After he killed Isaac Mendez, he called me, and heard me call the police on my other phone. He was scared. I still think that if I would have spoken to him instead, maybe I could have spared the world a little less hurt. But I was frightened. And the thought of talking to him disgusted me--"

The fight at Kirby Plaza and the aftermath? Those were things Matt knew. He skipped to the mess with Noah. With Bob. To the lab where he was suppose to try giving viruses to people with powers in hopes of nullifying those abilities without directly killing them. It wasn't entirely important to his dealing with Sylar, but once Mohinder got talking, he just kept talking.

Back at his apartment, meeting Maya, Sylar terrorizing Molly-- He was so angry speaking about these moments. So angry when Sylar killed Maya in front of the little girl. So angry when he got away with the cure. Frustrated tears clung once more in his eyelashes.

"I did the only thing I could think of. I took Molly as far away as I possibly could that very afternoon, right after we'd seen Nathan on the television, right after the Company sent me to Odessa. I couldn't leave her in New York, Matt. If Sylar ever finds her--" His fingers wiped at his eyes. The degree in which Mohinder had been used was heart breaking, especially when he was just starting to realize it by telling Matt the whole story.

Matt hadn't expected that. What he'd asked for - what he'd meant to ask about - was a lot less. He hadn't meant to make Mohinder recount his entire history with Sylar but he listened anyway because after a while he could tell that these were things Mohinder needed to say. And that they were things he thought Matt needed to hear.

And he appreciated it, because it answered a lot of questions that might otherwise have led to more yelling, more accusations and misunderstandings. He appreciated it because it let him understand Mohinder better. Made him really see the guilt, the way there was so much of it and all the agony caused from the many ways he'd been tricked into doing wrong.

It was a long talk and a hard listen. Matt finished eating at some point during it and quietly put his bowl in the sink before he came back to the table, sitting next to Mohinder rather than opposite of him, reaching out to touch his upper arm, a loose grip that probably didn't offer anywhere near as much comfort as Mohinder really needed.

When he got to sending Molly away and Matt could actually hear the goodbye replay in Mohinder's mind, he swallowed, scooted closer and put his other arm around his friend's shoulders. A sort of half hug. A start.

"I'm sorry", he said in a quiet, rough voice. He pressed his fingertips slightly into Mohinder's bicep. "I had no idea, Mohinder. I'm so sorry."

It didn't occur to Mohinder how touch starved he'd been until Matt offered his hand, and then his arm, and finally his shoulder. The Indian didn't crumple into his embrace, however, he wasn't that weak, and it took a few moments to get over his shock before turning towards Matt to tuck his head under the larger man's chin.

Matt had a particular aftershave that Mohinder had liked back in Brooklyn, and while the man didn't smell of that at the moment, there was still an underlying scent to him that was familiar, warm and comfortable.

Comforting. Mohinder didn't bother to say anything else after that, and perhaps the embrace lasted a little too long--

He'd owe Matt something later. He likely owed the world something too while he was at it.

Matt's biggest thing about touching was that he was never quite sure whether it was wanted from him or not, and that's why he frequently refrained. Hadn't been hugged enough as a kid, definitely. Was a little unsure in general, absolutely. But he was a good guy and didn't like seeing other people upset and when Mohinder relaxed and he could tell on his thoughts that he appreciated the gesture, he didn't mind hugging him at all. Not if it helped.

It was easier with kids, in many ways. Molly in particular, who hugged each of them often and with great enthusiasm (and sometimes, tragically, with desperation). Matt tapped into his behaviour with her now in a subconscious way, shifting a bit to more or less gather Mohinder against him, making a small hushing noise without realizing and tilting his head down.

It was the way Mohinder had chosen to position himself, mostly. Tucked under his chin like that, it made him seem small and vulnerable. After all that he'd said Matt wouldn't be surprised if that's how he really felt.

When he let go, he moved his hands to Mohinder's shoulders, looking him in the eyes. And that's when another wave of self consciousness hit him and there was probably some color crawling up his neck, but his tone was serious despite that.

"We'll get him, okay? We'll fix this, we'll get him, and then we'll go get Molly."

And maybe manage to be a family where no one was endangered every single day.

Mohinder wasn't exactly clued in to Matt's reactions and the flush didn't register as abnormal. In fact, Mohinder smiled when Matt confirmed the game plan. Get Sylar. But a stop to him. And then become a family again. He nodded twice, returning the touch with his fingertips pressed lightly to the centre of Matt's chest for just a moment before he cleared his throat and removed himself from the situation.

His thoughts were mostly a mixture of Indian dialects, but the thread that ran through them was certainly more upbeat. Matt would just have to deal with the way Mohinder thought he looked and smelled by himself while the Indian bustled around and tried to plan for dinner.

Of course, there was only so much to do with that and though rest might be a good thing for both of them, a day of watching DVDs didn't really appeal in the slightest to Mohinder.

Mentioning going to Primatech was weighed back and forth. There were pros and cons to such an action, but given the status of that place, there could be a phone, a way to communicate-- Back up emergency systems-- Mohinder didn't know. He just wanted to find out.

Matt hid his face again when he got up, then told himself he was being ridiculous for no reason and proceeded to clean up the remainders of their breakfast.

After that he explored the house for a while. He felt like he owed it to the people who had lived there, in a way, to get to know them a little. The Moores, he'd figured that out the night before from their name on the door and mailbox. But who they really were was something he was piecing together from what he saw around him. The daughter seemed to have a thing for space. The mother liked classic crime novels. The father had more white shirts than you could wish for - probably had an office job.

He did it with the forced detachment you had to have at a crime scene. He didn't really talk about these finds with Mohinder. In fact, he didn't say a lot to him at all or a while; that talk had been long and draining and Matt imagined Mohinder might want a little bit of space. Or maybe he needed it himself. It didn't matter much cause it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, and when Matt came down to break it, he did it with a sigh.

Yeah, they'd really been sticking around long enough for now.

"We should get going. We have to find Peter, and ... yeah, Primatech. You're right, we have to check it out."

He did have the decency to look mildly apologetic about catching that thought. Even in another language, "Primatech" kind of stood out.

In all actuality, Mohinder didn't mind Matt's skimming. He never had (save for moments when they were at each other's throats). In fact, being friends with a telepath gave him a certain ability not to have to say every little thing, incidentally. Shooing off Matt's apology, Mohinder instead went upstairs to put his shoes back on.

"Your things are line drying," he said, probably strange considering the clothesline outside was the only one in this section of the community to be in use. "We'll come back for them this evening."

Even if they did contact Noah, Mohinder still felt another day in isolation would be the best for them. Viruses transmitted through the air had a much shorter quarantine period than other sorts of viruses, but that didn't mean that Mohinder wanted to risk spreading this.

Especially to Molly.

Though if they could find a way to deliver it safely to Sylar--

A man could always hope.

He was ready within minutes of Matt bringing voice to his thoughts and had already fished a set of keys out of a bowl by the front door, likely to the large truck in the driveway. Being useful was most often on Mohinder's mind, no matter the typical consequence of that.

Matt nodded absently. It'd be nice to get back into his own jeans at some point, but that was hardly a priority at the moment. (The ones he was currently wearing were a bit tighter than his own, but not so much cause they were a different size. More that they meant to look good and not casual. All darker fabric and slight pattern aside, that mostly meant he had less space in his pockets to put his hands. Oh well.) Stepping into his own shoes and tying them up since he'd always had a preference for sneakers, he left the house just a bit after Mohinder. He raised his eyebrows in question when he saw Mohinder holding the key, but after he did the mental math of key + car = drive and spotted the truck outside, he gave a quiet huff of laughter in amusement as he got in.

Since it was Mohinder's find, he settled in on the passenger side, looking down at the ground from this elevated spot for a moment. Man, trucks were kind of scary just by virtue of being so damn huge, but the more childish part of him also happened to find it awesome.

He drummed his fingers against his thigh and tried the radio with his other hand as they drove. Like Mohinder had said in the morning, it was dead, but that didn't stop Matt from listening through a bit of static on the off chance there'd be something.

Further ahead, though, when they'd just be able to see the Primatech building at the end of the road, there was something else - a cloud of dust lingering in the air. Motioning for Mohinder to stop the truck as soon as he spotted it, Matt jumped out and down from the vehicle, not for the first time missing his gun, but whatever. He approached slowly, trying to get a read and trying to see what was going on.

The former was easier than the latter, and when he'd registered something, he went up to Mohinder again, speaking in a hushed tone, "It's Peter."

Turning off the truck all together, Mohinder waited until Matt was on his way back before he slid out of the driver seat to meet him a few feet from the truck's front bumper. He frowned, eyes narrowing as his gaze lifted towards the dust cloud. "What is he doing?" Digging up Primatech? He'd known there were basements and subbasements under there but why would he be digging--

It took just a moment more before Mohinder's heart sank and he put a hand lightly to Matt's bicep to get his attention and deposit the keys to the truck in his hand. Peter had to be digging graves for those left at the Primatech site. Mohinder jogged towards the dust cloud, pulling his shirt over his nose as he got closer and called Peter's name.

The dirt fell immediately, the telekinetic interrupted, and Peter turned to face the man calling his name. "Mohinder--"

"You don't have to be alone!" Mohinder called, letting the shirt fall from his mouth and lay back in place against his chest. "You don't have to do this alone. When's the last time you slept? Eaten?" Dirty streaked Peter's cheeks and for the first time since he'd rejoined the world of the living, officially, he looked more like the kid that stood at his apartment door and asked for acceptance...or perhaps understanding.

Mohinder had failed him too at first. That wasn't going to happen again.

By the time Matt caught up, he'd find the other two men embracing. Sometimes people just needed to cry. Mohinder looked over Peter's shoulder at the larger man and pressed his lips together. They were the only ones left. Separating now would be a mistake.

Matt paused a bit away from the two of them, deciding to let them hug the worst of it out. Peter's shoulders were shaking, his face heavily buried somewhere between Mohinder's shoulder and neck. Matt took the moment to look around, feeling ... heavy. Melancholy.

Peter had managed quite a bit of work. There was no telling when he'd started, but the ground between Primatech and the parking lot was split up and pushed along the seam, like some weird parody of Moses separating the sea. It must have taken a lot of energy to move the earth like that. Bodies were stacked at the far end where he'd managed the deepest and largest hollow - looked like he'd still been trying to expand all of it when he'd been interrupted.

There were only a few more bodies outside, but inside ...

Coming back to Mohinder and Peter once they'd separated, Peter's eyes heavy on the ground, Matt touched his arm to get his attention. Told him he was sorry about his brother and that he'd helped him out. He wanted to let Peter know that much even if he wasn't quite sure what else to say.

Peter mostly nodded, eyes shiny with tears, but he looked like he appreciated the words. Which was an improvement from a day prior.

Glancing towards Mohinder for a moment, Matt then suggested, "Go get some sleep. Tell us if there's anything we need to know, but just ... just rest for a while, okay? We'll let you know if we need you."

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