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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Matt followed Mohinder into the room, not looking quite as grim now when he was away from the cells and in proximity of Mohinder's excitement. Except it died down almost immediately. Frowning, Matt looked around, spotted the other man and came closer.

"Mohinder-?"

He paused. He recognised files when he saw them - they all looked the same. He didn't recognise the woman in the picture, however, or at least he didn't think so. He frowned but didn't even try to read the name at this angle.

"... do you know her?"

It wouldn't be surprising. Mohinder had spent quite a bit of time trying to track people with powers down, and so had the Company. The Company just tended to do it better, faster, and more ruthlessly. Of course they'd have files on hand.

"She lived across the hall from my father," Mohinder said with a sense of disquiet. "We--" What's the word for it? What would make it seem less like a spur of a moment thing and something he'd enjoyed? "We'd been a bit romantic. She was helping me with my research, with tracking down Sylar. They told me she killed herself and that entire time... She'd been a plant."

He was trying not to be angry or upset, handing Matt a small packet of papers with diagrams, with biological read outs and brain scans.

"Vocal persuasion," he muttered. "Of course."

He let the rest of the papers in Eden's file go and instead, likely out of habit or a need to shove things around, began to put the files back in their box.

At least, until he found a very familiar name on one. Parkman, Matthew.

Matt looked it over. He didn't like reading words much, but he understood visually presented information just fine, and he noted with some interest that they seemed to have pinpointed which area in the brain was of interest for this girl's particular power. He wondered idly if it was different for everyone or if the ability usually showed in the same area of the brain.

He'd proably hung out a bit too much with Mohinder. But honestly, it was something that was happening to him. He wanted to know at least some things about it. Especially if it was going to ... grow. What was it his dad had said? It becomes so much more?

When Mohinder voiced her power Matt felt a little sick. He looked at the papers for a while longer but then he handed them back, not wanting to think too much about it. It could be a good thing, he reminded himself, but really, with that tone in Mohinder's voice, he couldn't convince himself all the way.

"Come on", he started, leaning down a bit to touch his friend's shoulder - only to have have his gaze fall on his own face.

Of course they had a file on him. Of course. They'd tagged him, he still had the scars, but there was something incredibly insulting and alarming in seeing his own file.

"Funny, I can't remember anyone taking that picture", he said in a harsh voice, just about restraining himself from snatching the photo. It stood out to him in particular. They could have been stalking him for ages. "What's it say?"

There was a lot of detail here. Not as much as Eden's file, but Matt had only come under the Company's radar in the last few months. Flipping past the early childhood information (and skimming it without much interest because Matt's ability had manifested later in life), Mohinder moved on to the assessment and read bits of it out loud-- "Apart from suffering from Dyslexia..." Right, they knew all of that. "Well, it goes on to say that you're rather average."

At least that afforded him a smile. Rather far from the truth, but all right, he thought to himself.

"Ah, it mentions that you worked with the-- Really? The FBI? Impressive." And yes, Mohinder was really very impressed. "'Parkman's surveillance and unsuccessful raid on Primatech Paper Company resulted in a six-month suspension from the LAPD and ruined his credibility with the FBI. He is currently divorced and working at the NYPD at detective rank.' I'm not sure I congratulated you on that, by the way. The job."

Not the divorce, obviously!

He cleared his throat to continue. "'Since his wife was pregnant by another man, his offspring no longer--'" Mohinder almost choked, having to stop himself. Dark eyes lifted towards the larger man, lips parting.

He had no idea.

"I'm-- Here." He handed the file over. "No one ought to have this much information on another person."

Maybe it hadn't been all that thought out to basically tell Mohinder to read the thing, given that Matt should have expected there to be to be a lot of information. Although in another way it seemed to put them on a more even ground since Mohinder had told Matt a lot of personal information just this morning.

Mostly, though, Matt found that he was too angry to care much, right then. Angry but not in ... it was a different way than normal. Like he was a bit antsy, maybe anxious. He just plain didn't like it, felt even more like an animal now than when he'd been told what it was the Company did when they abducted people. Tracking them. Caging them. And keeping files on them and their offspring -- these people were sick.

To Mohinder's remarks he didn't react much, mostly with a shrug, noncommitical. He'd probably tell a more complete story at some point but right then he wasn't interested in the things he already knew, even if they were news to Mohinder. He guessed what he wanted to see was if there was anything about what he could do now. And why he could.

When none of that made it past Mohinder's lips and the file was given to him, he shook his head and flipped through the file himself, staring darkly at the charts and pictures and several of the headlines.

"Yeah, if we're even people to them", he muttered. After a moment he looked up at Mohinder and sighed. "It's fine. Really." Neither of them had known what it was going to say. He didn't want Mohinder to feel bad about it.

"Is there-- Anything about your charted ability? Perhaps range? Focus?" Mohinder wasn't a telepath, but sometimes he and Matt could be on the same page. Briefly. Mohinder's interests weren't in testing people with abilities so much as identifying them. What they could do was interesting, but not from a scientific mindset. That had been his father's goals. Mohinder's curiosity matched Matt's in this regard, and for good reason. "Perhaps give you an idea of when you might fall over a limit and hurt yourself?"

No, he had no idea that Matt's strain was because of the other things his ability had unlocked. He had no idea how Matt had saved Molly from the Nightmare Man. He had no idea what Matt's father could actually do.

Or what Matt very well might be able to do too.

Other than a few early readings, a lot of the Company's findings were in progress. However, there was a photocopied set of another file tucked in with Matt's. One meant to be used as cross reference. One that, if Matt took the time to look through it, might discover an even darker side to his abilities.

Mohinder didn't wait for an answer. He just finished boxing up the rest of the files. Sylar's wasn't in there. Perhaps a good thing. Mohinder didn't need to throw taunts to the serial killer about his childhood when they next met.

Matt's frown deepened a bit and he thought out loud as he looked at the most obvious chart - the silhouette of a person with lines surrounding its head. A telepath. His mind thing. "I, uh ... looks like it's mostly the info they got when they kidnapped me the first time." He closed the file and tapped his fingers over its surface. His name. God, it was bizarre. "I'll look at it later. You're right, it'd be good to know those things."

There was an avoidant quality to that last sentence, yeah. Again, it wasn't really what he was interested in, even if he could see how it would be helpful figures to know. But he really just ... yeah.

It didn't strike him that it was unfair of him to keep such a thing from Mohinder, to open for more arguments and misunderstandings between them like this. His silence was reflexive. Self-preservation, in a way. He felt uneasy about it, like too many things could go wrong if he made it known what he could do.

He fingered the file until Mohinder had put the box away and then reminded him, wanting to get away from the topic and the silence, "How about that phone call?"

How funny to have forgotten about the phone entirely in light of something so very stupid. Mohinder blinked at Matt and rolled his eyes at himself before entering in Noah's number. He was glad he had a mind for figures sometimes or he'd never have remembered it. The phone rang twice before an uncertain-toned voice answered with a: 'hello?'

"Noah? Thank God, it's Mohinder Suresh and--"

"How-- Never mind, we don't have a lot of time. Odessa is under complete quarantine. By the time I got here, there were three cases of the virus, but each was isolated. Claire's blood didn't work." Mohinder didn't bother to ask how Bennet managed to sneak blood into the CDC's testing and drug supplies because there simply wasn't time, as he'd said. "How bad is it at ground zero?"

Mohinder's lips pressed together for a moment. "Almost complete fatality rate. There were some uninfected people that were taken away two days ago. Matt and Peter and I are likely all that's left--"

"You're kidding me!"

Mohinder scowled but didn't retort that he would never joke about something so serious. "We're going to wait another day or so, until we can be sure that we aren't bringing the contamination with us, but if you could set a decontamination area for us--"

"Mohinder--" A pause and a sigh followed. "I'll see what I can do. Stay on this number, all right? I'll call tomorrow." The moment he hung up, Mohinder felt a sort of relief he hadn't expected and leaned against the desk before keying in his mother's number in India. It would be very late there, but he handed the phone over to Matt any way.

"She speaks English," he said with a smirk. Go on Matt. Talk to Molly first.

Since Matt only heard one end of the conversation he was paying attention to Mohinder's expression and tone and body language, and so he didn't have any issue at all catching that relief when the call was disconnected.

He was going to ask something except then Mohinder dialled another number, and Matt gave him a questioning look. Until he head Molly's name. His eyes widened just slightly and he accepted the phone gratefully, pressed it to his ear and mouth his thanks to his friend over the dial tone.

When it connected and what sounded like a poised elder woman answered, he was both relieved and a little intimidated.

"Yes- hello, ma'am? I'm ... sorry to bother you, my name's Matt Parkman and I'm-"

She seemed to know who he was. She would, of course, because Mohinder would hardly have put Molly on a plane without knowing at least giving the woman a run-down of what was happening.

He didn't trade many words with Mohinder's mother and that was just as well, because he didn't know how to answer any questions she might have and honestly, didn't have even half a mind for pleasantries right then. There was some crackling and distant sounds before the phone was eventually handed over to their precious little girl and she answered it with excitement battling the tiredness in her voice. "Matt?"

"Molly, sweetheart ..." He sat down at the nearest desk, one hand over his eyes. He could almost have sobbed with relief, honestly. He didn't, but he hadn't heard her voice for days, and it smacked him in the face now when he was talking to one of the few things he really had to lose - Sylar, the virus, everything. Everything that could have taken her away from them. "Are you okay?"

He could almost hear her shrug. "I'm okay. Mama Suresh is nice to me. I don't want to stay, Matt", she added in that carefully pleading way children had. "When are you coming to get me?"

"Not yet, and I'm so sorry, Molly. We're working on it." He rubbed his hand over his face, tired and sad. They'd both promised the girl so many times they wouldn't leave her and they kept having to disappear on uncertain little missions, and now ... "I promise. I love you. We can't wait to see you again, but I can't ... just hang in a little while more, honey, okay?"

"Okay", she answered. Sad but resigned. She'd grown up way too fast. Still, Matt managed to get a little bit of small talk out of her after that by asking her about India, and she couldn't help but describe one or two things she'd seen. He smiled as he listened but it was a bittersweet thing.

He would have listened to her forever but he knew neither of them could. If the phone was on credit it could well be running out by now and Mohinder needed to speak to her, too.

"Hang on, I'll let you talk to Mohinder. He misses you too." He smiled a little at her answer, glancing up at his friend for a moment before he added, "I love you so much, Molly." He wouldn't let her doubt that.

He handed the cell phone over with a hand to the shoulder before he went to lean against a wall, head tilted back against it as he breathed in and blinked against the sting in his eyes.

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