seekevolution | Quarantine

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."

A wave of his hand covered the rest of the visible bodies in dirt. Peter didn't pack it down; their loved ones would very likely wish to retrieve them later for burial or cremation...whatever they saw fit. He couldn't really explain what he found inside. A little bit of telekinesis, a little bit of electrogenesis and a penchant for destruction-- That was all Peter had really needed to break his way through Primatech security.

"And a phone? A working computer? Satellite hookups?" Mohinder pressed him as gently as he could and Peter shook his head.

"If it's there... Honestly, Mohinder? I wasn't looking for that sort of stuff. But yeah. Sleep might be... Yeah."

Giving Peter the address of where they were staying, and about where to find it, Mohinder took a step back, unsure if Peter would really want to use the power Nathan had given him the ability for. From how he understood it, and it was a rudimentary understanding really, Peter had to access his abilities through emotion, through the emotion the originator made him feel. Empathy was a terrible burden.

Seeing Peter take off, however, gave him a little faith in the younger man's healing process. He was not really looking forward to going inside in all honestly but it was their best shot. "Sometimes, in situations like these, I wish I was a little more helpful," he commented and the strode towards the warehouse doors.

"What do you mean?"

He had to question that because he honestly didn't know what Mohinder meant by it. Coming to walk beside him, Matt was mentally preparing for what they might find inside (if it was anything like the high school, he might punch something again) but he was looking at his friend, frowning.

"You just calmed Peter down. You know what we're looking for. And uh, you're the only one here who knows how to even begin dealing with all this shit."

He took the stairs a few steps before Mohinder to press a hand against the doors. The locks were broken and looked a bit singed, which was likely Peter's work, but Matt found himself unwilling to actually walk into the facility until he'd gotten an answer. So he leant slightly against the doors and sought Mohinder's eyes.

Matt's sudden propensity to make eye contact was not exactly awkward for Mohinder, though he found it slightly invasive. He almost immediately took a step back. Matt wasn't attempting to be intimidating...but he was, just by his size, just by the way he could look sometimes. Mohinder was fond of his smile, but the intensity of his eyes was a little too much on occasion.

He wasn't being interrogated-- Though Matt was blocking the way. The geneticist could do nothing but swallow and try to explain himself.

"You, Molly-- If I could...pry open doors. Or fly-- It would be more useful than working on a virus I can't actually cure, Matt."

Matt shrugged. "Put me next to Peter and I'm basically Aquaman." ... that wasn't entirely true anymore, but despite how much Matt had pushed thoughts the previous few days, he wasn't used to thinking about himself with more powers than glorified listening.

That's still probably everything Mohinder thought he could do. Well, that and that he could project now, if he focused on it. He'd ... have to tell him, probably. But he realized that he didn't quite want to. Not yet.

"Aqua--" Mohinder blinked at Matt as if he had two heads and then laughed. The geneticist wasn't that sort of nerd, Matt. Comic books were something Peter enjoyed. Mohinder had always been more of an encyclopedia reading. Absolute truth there. It still served to lighten the mood and Matt was treated to one of Mohinder's dimpled grins before the Indian ducked under his arm to push his way inside. "I disagree. I think. Did that one wear horrible tights as well?"

Not that he was picturing Matt in tights-- Well now he was. And that just made him laugh even harder. Perhaps that wasn't the attitude to have when walking into the site of the demise of a portion of a city.

Alas. Mohinder Suresh had a bit of a penchant for mood switching.

"Tch yeah", Matt snorted when he followed. He couldn't help it: Mohinder's laugh was contagious, and he was grinning when he elaborated further. "Every superhero has those, it's like ... comic book law. But Aquaman wears a fishscale shirt."

And that was probably the height of ridiculousness.

Matt hadn't been too much of a comic book kid, although he might have been if he'd had easier access to them. It wasn't as much effort to read a comic book as a novel. His superhero knowledge usually came from the morning cartoons. He'd spent way too much time in front of the TV, as a kid. Yet another bad habit that had stuck.

It was fortunate that the bottom floor of Primatech seemed completely empty, or else Matt would've felt bad for being in a good mood on entering a dead zone. It was possible they'd moved all or most of the dead already since Primatech was where it had all started.

Well perfect, now not only was Matt wearing tights in his mind, he was always wearing a fish scale shirt. An imagination was a terrible thing to have, he decided, ans scrubbed the thoughts right out of his head before he did something truly ridiculous like tell Matt about why he really ought to never attempt to be an Aquaman. Besides, what sort of superpower was swimming well (Mohinder's assumption of Aquaman's powers weren't as terrible as they actually were or else he might spend the next hour trying to puzzle out how talking to something without much of a brain could be even remotely useful)?

He was more or less quieted by the lack of anything on the lowest level of facility. "It... It looks like a prison," Mohinder said of the row of cells along one side of the corridor. Empty cots. Less than private toilets. A sobering thought, the most dangerous people in the world might have once been housed here. Were they dead? Was no one down here anyway? Could it have just been a precaution?

Too many questions, and thankfully, not about Matt in a superhero costume. A phone on the wall by an elevator that no longer worked didn't give Mohinder a dial tone, but that was all right. There might be offices higher up with a sat phone he could try to use. As long as he could contact Noah--

And if it got out-- The whole world could--

"I have to find a phone. Now."

Matt's eyes darkened when he looked around and recognised the cells, the previous humor vanishing very quickly. These weren't the ones he'd been locked up in but the style and function was absolutely the same.

"This way", Matt said with a definite bitter edge to his tone and turned around, not quite waiting to make sure Mohinder was following. He wasn't a hundred percent sure where he was going and a lot of the hallways looked the same, but by retracing their steps halfway to the exit he could turn towards the corridor with the cells that had once belonged to him, Bennet and Ted, among others.

He stopped there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling like it might help him wih directions, and then kept going past that door which was open for some reason. ... that was probably a bad sign, one way or the other.

"I think it's over here", he said, offering no real explanation as to why he'd know. "There's some sort of office section a few floors up. Third, I think." Gesturing at a pair of elevators nearby, he finally looked over his shoulder at his friend.

Mohinder's mind probed and questioned, hoping Matt would supply the answer. Ultimately, he did not and, perhaps for the best, ultimately, Mohinder did not press verbally for it. He followed Matt silently, trying to determine just what happened here. Was the evacuation deliberate? Did the people that worked on the front of the paper company even realize what it was they were doing? They were likely all dead now and... Mohinder didn't have the heart right now to focus on that.

The offices on the third level were clean, Spartan. There were no nameplates on the doors, there were no photographs on the desks. In a way, Mohinder understood why. Secrets needed to be kept and families ought to not interfere with those things...or become reason for concern later.

Mohinder paused at what looked like a central secretary's desk, but there was no dial tone when he picked up the handset and sighed. Landlines wouldn't work but there had to be a cell phone somewhere around here. Someone had to have left in a hurry--

And jackpot! Mohinder found one as he poked through an unlocked office, still on the charger. "Matt!" he called out, though his jubulant thoughts likely reached the telepath first. Bending to detach it from the wall, Mohinder ended up knocking over a box of files, evidently ones that had been in the process of being entered into computer databanks rather than be kept on hardcopy.

He recognized the face looking back at him from the mug shot attached to a folder. "Eden--" He was crouched there, flipping through the file with one hand, the fingers of the other over his mouth.

He'd seen this picture before. An FBI agent had shown him. He just had no idea-- No idea who Sarah Ellis truly was. Or what she could do...

Or...what she may have made him do.

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