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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"Molly!" Mohinder's talk was shorter than Matt's but filled with the same sort of thing. He made sure that she knew he loved her and promised that they'd be there soon. "Are you being kind to my elephants?" he asked, grinning when the girl laughed.

"I'm not five, Mohinder! But the one with the painted red ears is my favorite," came the response, followed by a yawn. It was hard to readjust, he understood, and he hung up with a sense of relief.

Mohinder tucked the phone into his back pocket and lightly touched Matt's back before he rounded the corner. Matt could use a moment. The American likely needed the time to recompose himself, though Mohinder would have been open for another hug had Matt seemed to wish for it.

Armed with Matt's file and hope in a few days that they could leave here and track Sylar down again, Mohinder didn't mind returning to the household they'd commandeered and even wondered, out loud, what sorts of foods Peter didn't care for. He was a fairly good short order cook.

Yeah, Matt could use the moment, and he did. He simply stood for a while. Then he took a steadying breath, pressed the heels of his hand against his eyes and then exited the room, grabbing the charger to the phone Mohinder had picked up so they wouldn't have to deal with a dead one again.

Mohinder had picked up his file though, something Matt observed with mixed feelings, but ultimately he did want to keep it, at least for now. Either way he gently bumped Mohinder's shoulder with his own when he caught up with him in a gesture of ... companionship, he supposed. He didn't have a lot to say and kept his hands in his pockets, only humming slightly to show that he was listening to what Mohinder was thinking out loud about.

But when they rounded a corner past the cells and eventually made it outside, Matt seemed to pick himself up some, and looked up at Mohinder's profile with an amused light in his somewhat-shiny eyes.

"Do you seriously have elephants?"

Though genuine smiles were not easily come by these days, Mohinder couldn't fake one all that well. When he was happy, or content, the smile made his eyes glow, made the corners crinkle just a little. The little knock on his arm, the companionship signal, was enough to light Mohinder's face up...and to keep him from offering Matt a tissue from his pocket so his friend could save face.

Dirt settled, truck still waiting for them, Mohinder paused in stride at Matt's comment and smirked. "They're teddies," he responded, and then clarified: "stuffed. Statues. My mother bought me one Indian elephant every birthday. You can imagine that I've amassed quite a few."

The look he gave to his friend turned into laughter and Mohinder took a turn lightly nudging Matt's elbow too.

"Be prepared for a new addition to the house if Molly gets attached to the one I believe she was speaking of. It's large enough for her to ride. Might save your back, though. I bet when we see her next, she'll be two inches taller!"

They'd never spoken so much in their four months together. Mohinder would never say he appreciated this situation...but he did enjoy the benefits of feeling close to someone.

"I can handle her", Matt huffed, not actually offended but letting the tone seem that way when he paused by the truck, looking over at Mohinder. "I'm a cop. I get to kick doors in for a living."

He remembered back when that had been fairly simple - and also uneventful. What really mattered most to him though was getting to make a difference, to help people. Now he was finally in a position where he could. He hoped he'd still have that job after all this was cleared up.

Unlocking the truck, he got in the driver's seat this time, not really thinking about it. It had been closer to him. After Mohinder had seated himself and Matt looked over his shoulder by reflex to see the road, only to have his vision naturally blocked by the fact that it was a truck he was driving, he rolled his eyes and leaned out the window to help see where he was backing up on the road and deadpanned,

"We'll definitely need a yard if we're keeping elephants."

Sobering up a bit after a joyous, joking trip back to the Moore's, Mohinder jumped out of the truck and pushed the door shut. At the picture window by the driveway, the curtains moved just a bit and swished back into place. Peter, very likely, judging them as non-threatening. Phone in his pocket and a smile, subdued of course, but still present on his face, Mohinder let himself into the home and held the door open for Matt to follow.

There was a strange smell and Mohinder tilted his head slightly to the side, Peter standing at the door to the kitchen and smoke billowing along the ceiling and over his head.

It still didn't quite occur to Mohinder what was happening until the fire detector went off just a moment later. The Indian rushed to the oven and yanked the door open, eyes instantly watering as the heated smoke hit him right in the face. Gagging and choking, he shut the door again and turned the oven off.

"What--"

"Just frozen pizza!" Peter grunted, looking defensive.

"Did you take it out of the plastic and cardboard packaging?!" Mohinder questioned and...judging by the look on Peter's face--

"Uh... Oh. Whoops."

"H-How did either of you survive on your own!?"

After the initial coughing spell, Matt seemed to find the entire thing quite funny and kept up a crooked kind of smile when he turned the alarm off. Listening to Peter only halfway defending himself and Mohinder cleaning up he picked up the last orange from the fruit ball and tossed it to Peter who caught it with a confused look Matt's way.

His reflexes were pretty slow, Matt noted idly. How long had him and Mohinder been at Primatech? It couldn't have been more than three hours, probably not even that. If Peter had caught any sleep it all it wouldn't have been much. No wonder he was making such mistakes.

And the question "Really. How long did you sleep?" was met with a sheepish kind of expression. Nightmares, maybe? Or just still the restlessness, unwillingness to stop, to not be doing anything.

Matt glanced over his shoulder at Mohinder (and he would go help, really, in a sec) and lowered his voice when he directed it to Peter again, one hand to his shoulder. "Get some sleep", he suggested gently. And finally it seemed like he'd gotten through. Maybe beacause Peter was exhausted, more suspectible to being pushed, but the younger man nodded, apologised to Mohinder and slowly went up the stairs.

After he was out of sight, Matt shook his head and went to open the living room windows to help the circulation in the air. Mohinder had already gotten to the kitchen ones.

"Look, say what you want", he called to him as he went past a sofa, "but I've never set off the alarm."

Glad Peter was finally going to take their advice, and thinking that his desire to go back upstairs had to do with no longer being alone in the house, Mohinder didn't equate Matt's words with any sort of persuasion. He dumped the ruined pizza in the sink and turned on the water, eyes still stinging from the smoke. The breeze from the kitchen windows seemed counter productive, blowing the smoke back in his face, and he went to join Matt in the clearer living room.

"Do I need to fact check with Molly?" he asked, setting the phone down on the mantle where any of them could see or hear it go off. "Better yet, I'd rather not know about it. What I'm not told can't hurt me, right?"

Of course, that just wasn't true at all. Most of what Mohinder didn't know came back to bite him over and over again. The poor man didn't even realise it. No wonder he was so easily duped time and time again?

"I was thinking of making vegetarian chili for dinner," he said, watching Matt stretch over a lamp to shove a window up. Should the larger man glance over his shoulder now, it would look as if the Indian was checking him out.

Then again... The drift of his eyes suggested that perhaps he was any way, hip to the wall and arms folded across his chest aside.

"There's a package of hot dogs in there too so you don't have to worry that I'm making anything too healthy."

Matt smirked a bit, leaning out the window for a moment when he'd gotten it open to take a deep breath of fresh air. The living room didn't have a lot of smoke in it at all but the thing about smoke is that it quickly tints the air around you. So air it was.

"Aah. Nah, you don't have to do that. I'll cook them later if I want them." He turned around just in time to see part of that look on Mohinder, actually, and he paused for a moment. Again, that feeling of self consciousness. He frowned. "What? ... I won't burn the house down."

A half hearted joke. Man, he felt like he was missing something here.

Though hot dogs really only needed to be put in the microwave, the strain of conversation and topic of house burning made Mohinder laugh -- and then cough. The smoke was clearing out, thankfully, but it was still stuffy enough to leave the Indian nearly hacking up a lung. At least it broke Mohinder's gaze -- and his concentration. And it stopped any damning thoughts from springing to mind.

Back to the chili. It would take a few hours to simmer, but he was happier doing this sort of labour after what he had endured at the high school. No more lab work, no more blood. He and Matt and Peter just had to hold out for another day or two and then they could get on with their lives.

He sang as he chopped up the remainder of the tomatoes from the refrigerator and hunted around the cabinet for some spices. Mohinder didn't have a bad voice at all, and the melodic trelling of most Indian songs lent itself well to Mohinder's vocal range. Broken only by the occasional whir of an electric can opener on carrots and beans, he might well be singing Molly to sleep.

Even if the song itself had a sad undertone to it.

Matt was in an out during that time. He checked in on Peter, just to be sure, and found him curled up in a ball on top of the guest room bed. He'd at least toed his shoes off before he passed out. All in all he looked vulnerable and twitchy, but a quick scan of his mind showed that at least right then no nightmares seemed to be tormenting him.

He checked if Mohinder wanted any help but after the smoke was cleared out he seemed to have it under control, and so Matt took the liberty of taking a quick walk around the block. He didn't expect to find anything but he still wanted to keep an eye out for any kind of changes.

He found pets, in the end. Sort of. Thinking back on it Matt wouldn't be sure why he hadn't considered it, but there'd just been so much else to think about that when a cat crossed the road he wrote it off as a stray until the cat's nametag reflected the sun.

"Hi, buddy, c'mere", he cooed at it gently until he was allowed to pet it. Her. Mittens. He scratched her around the neck and ears for a while but she moved on soon enough, probably hunting if she knew how. Either way, Mittens proved to be yet another reminder of all the lives lost, and he was a bit more thoughtful when he re-entered their adopted house. He lit up some though at the familiar low singing that greeted him.

"Smells good", he complimented Mohinder, taking his jacket off and glancing at the time. It was moving slow. He'd never had this little to do, but he considered it calm before the storm and tried to ... well, enjoy it, he supposed. As much as he could.

He hung around the kitchen after that to watch Mohinder cook and help out where he was needed, telling him a bit about the cat and the somewhat troubling notion of how many pets were likely fending for themselves now. Small talk was scattered, but not uncomfortable in its silences.

For several moments, Mohinder actually considered going to each home in the area to see about the locked away pets, but the idea died before passing his lips. And thank God for that. Dealing with injured pets, hungry pets, unfriendly pets-- Mohinder would likely get himself bitten and though Peter was a trained nurse, it might not be enough to put the stupid man back together properly again. Mohinder meant well-- That was always the problem. Ending up telling Matt that a few days wouldn't kill the animals and that when Noah gave them an out, the animals would likely be collected by various humane societies, he turned down the heat on the pot and put the massive wooden spoon in the sink to rinse later.

They had a few hours before dinner would be ready, before it grew dark outside, before Peter would even think about waking and now there was nothing more to do in the kitchen.

"Perhaps we could put on a DVD? We don't have to worry about the rating for once." Molly had seen people die, had been subjected to almost dying herself, but Mohinder insisted on under PG-13 ratings for whatever they watched at home.

That generally meant cartoons or the Disney channel.

Really, he just wanted something mindless to ignore and perhaps doze a bit to, something to pass the time. It wasn't that Matt was poor company, Mohinder's nerves and emotions were simply fried.

Matt didn't have to think about that very long at all. He'd taken a look around earlier, after all, and the Moores had a completely passable DVD collection.

"Uh, yeah, why not." He shot Mohinder a teasing smirk and then added, "They do have Disney movies, you know. If you prefer."

They didn't have the biggest stack of movies at home but Beauty and the Beast had seen its fair share of watchthroughs to the point where Matt thought he actually knew one or two songs by heart. He was sure Mohinder had it even worse, since he could sing.

In the end he wound up suggesting a classic Bond flick and after getting Mohinder's nod of approval, he started figuring out the DVD player. It wasn't long before he was seated in one corner of the couch with the remote control on the arm rest, his head in one hand. It was nice to get something else to focus on and he was happy to let his mind drift. You wouldn't catch any thoughts from people on-screen.

It wasn't really Mohinder's sort of film, but with his shoes off and one more day's worth of stress under his belt (the fruit of which waits for them on the mantle in the form of a file folder and a mobile phone), he could get just a little relaxing done. By the end of the third scene, however, the Indian, on the other end of the sofa, had gradually sunken into the cushions, twisting about with knees up and head cradled in the overstuffed pillow back. He wasn't quite asleep, though his blinking slowed considerably as the story played out.

His thoughts turned into a dull, low, meaningless drum..until they weren't. When had Matt started seeing rather than just hearing thoughts? When had he been able to first start peering into dreams, to push back the jungle fronds and gaze at them, mist covered, as if they were a movie until themselves?

Perhaps it was more than people narrated their dreams, they gave verbal descriptions to the images their minds produced to help them sort it out better.

In the end, it wouldn't matter. Mohinder's somewhat happy dreams about making sandwiches for Matt and Molly turned into nightmares centred on Sylar, on cold dead blue eyes of a little girl pinned to the ceiling with cutlery, of Matt having his head sawed open by maniacal fingertips.

Large, brown eyes bore down on Mohinder himself, the dream image shaking like a leaf, as Sylar with Matt's power tore open all of his thoughts.

Shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, he was unable to scream, unable to wake. The repercussions of Peter's little journey in to the mind of the geneticist had torn open old wounds and added a few new ones.

He hadn't quite mastered images yet. They were slipping, dream-like to him as well unless he held them down, but he hadn't had any reason to realize this and put it into much practise. With he did with dreams was, he heard the lines. The surrounding sounds.

He wasn't paying attention to Mohinder's drifting thoughts at first because that was the entire point. He was lazily watching a film he'd seen a few times before because it didn't require the focus. But when the sounds of distress were suddenly both in his head and on the screen he turned his attention to Mohinder almost immediately, sad for his sake, understanding - he'd come to have a bit of an understanding on nightmares after listening to Molly's so many times.

He heard his own name, though. And the terror in it. When he shifted and leaned over Mohinder a little to listen better, blocking out the TV, he caught the fear almost like a physical thing and the brief understanding (whether it was the image that had swam to the surface or just the knowledge somehow) that it was Sylar pulling the strings ... Sylar and Matt, Sylar with something of his, the combination ... he swallowed, feeling sick and angry. It didn't take him long to get off the sofa to crouch by Mohinder's side and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Wake up, buddy", he murmured, but the other man wasn't as easily woken as Molly usually was. And when the internal scream pierced through Matt's head his eyes widened and he took a firmer hold on his friend and, likely driven by the memory of what he'd managed to do for the poor girl when she hadn't woken up, he entered the dream in an entirely instinctive way. He wouldn't manage to explain how.

The images were all there. Everything was in all-too-clear detail, Sylar's eyes cold and calculating as he stood towering over Mohinder, Molly's corpse and Matt's own in the background in such a way you were unable to not look at them ...

It was a dream. Matt felt scared, but he'd done this before. When Sylar turned towards him, cold and calculating - hell, he looked like he was laughing - he tried to focus on Mohinder.

"Mohinder! Hey, man, come on. It's okay, it's a dream, you're dreaming. Let's get out of here ..."

Edited 2014-01-23 07:40 (UTC)

Looking from Sylar to Matt to the corpse and back again, Mohinder looked like he might break down. Of course, these were just his dreams, not dreams induced by a telepath like Matt and so Mohinder had a little more control over things than he'd had before. Sylar's laughing, maniacal face morphed, shifted to one of confusion. He spoke Mohinder's name as he looked at his hands, which seemed to dissolve into sand at his feet. Molly and Matt's bodies did as well. The walls followed, melting into water until the apartment morphed into the beach in India where Mohinder had said his farewells to his father's ashes.

The look on Sylar's face was mirrored in Mohinder's, lips slightly parted, eyes staring up at Matt's. "You died," he finally managed, the sound of the river lapping at the sandy silt and pebbles by their feet as it flowed around the shore. He lifted his hands to Matt's face, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck, thumbs at his ears. "He cut you open and--"

Wait. Mohinder's eyes darted around Matt from left to right at the horizon, before they snapped back to the telepath again.

"I'm-- Am I dreaming? Am I dreaming that you're standing here or are you-- Is this possible?" Leave it to Mohinder to find excitement so soon after being terrorized!

Matt looked a little sheepish, maybe even embarrassed. There it was again, the ... spotlight, the attention. But mostly it was about the fact that he'd just done it, just stepped into someone's dream like that. Hadn't reflected, planned ... it was like he'd slipped. And it was so weird. It felt personal somehow, like a breach of space, to have watched Mohinder's nightmare to even begin it. That, and just that he was able to to even begin with.

He looked away for a moment, altogether seeming a bit bothered.

"I, uh ... yeah." He was practically squirming. Was it guilt? Really? Did he feel guilty? He glanced up at Mohinder and then moved his own hands to his, to sort of dislodge them from around his neck. It was so damn close. "I don't know. I didn't really know I could. I just ... you were screaming, so I ..."

Though lowering his hands, Mohinder gripped Matt's instead of his neck so that their clasped hands rested between their chests. Yes, the Indian was actively holding onto them. Yes, he was giving Matt Disney Princess eyes, the sort entirely too familiar from Molly's movies. He was entranced--

That was the best word for it.

Matt's ability to manifest a new branch of his initial power from stress and the desire to help made so many more things possible. A growing ability-- Surely that was new! Could use of one's ability be like a muscle? Practice could produce more substantial results?

Though an analytic mind was at work, the romantic setting (including a breeze from the water to catch in his hair and the loose, white tunic he wore), the intimate embrace, and the gaze spoke of many other things. It might be a dream, but dreams, no matter how ephemeral, could still feel so real.

And wasn't that the point?

"You're utterly amazing," Mohinder breathed.

Matt stared. He felt alarmingly like that deer in head lights, that one that was sure to be run over at any moment and was both shocked and scared but irrevocably frozen in place. Cause he really, really was.

"Err", he managed eloquently, wanting to run but totally unable. Why were they holding hands? ... when did Mohinder start holding his hands? Not that it was exactly unpleasant but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in turn. Or what he wanted to do about it. Would it be offensive if he just let go? What was going on?

He licked his lips nervously before he answered, turning his head to look at the water and the dunes (and why was he nervous, what the hell?). "I'm really ... I'm really not, Mohinder. I don't even know what I did."

It seemed like he couldn't hear Mohinder's thoughts anymore, now that he was in them. Instead the landscape told him some of what was going on in the other man's mind. The water seemed at ease but the sunlight was really really bright and maybe that's why he didn't quite want to look Mohinder in the eyes. So damn bright. Jesus.

Perhaps a bit childish to still be holding hands like that, Mohinder was just too excited to let go. Perhaps he didn't even realize it, though, and more likely, he was simply on a whole new thought process.

Yes, the idea with Sylar holding Matt's abilities and then using them on anyone was a terrifying thing. But Matt growing into his abilities was wonderful. They might fight from time to time, but it was another example of just how much Mohinder did trust the American.

It wasn't until Matt wet his lips that Mohinder finally blinked and made a conscious effort to not only let go, but also take a step back. Barefoot on the banks of the river, he gave Matt another once over before he turned to face the river. "It's... It's useful. I would even say--"

"Eh--" A voice familiar but far off came on the breeze and Mohinder blinked, distracted, and found himself looking up at Peter from a slumped position on the sofa. Matt was kneeling at his feet on the floor and in reality, they were still holding hands.

Mohinder blinked and Peter looked embarrassed.

"I was worried there. You guys weren't answering and I heard a scream so--"

Matt sighed, freed his hands from Mohinder's, put his face in them and proceeded to take a deep breath. Now when he was back on the ground ... well, floor, whatever, his mind was reeling from the difference between hard solid reality and the fleeting existance and gentle buzz of Mohinder's thought world.

"No, yeah, we're fine", he informed Peter after that steadying moment, looking up at him from the floor with a mixed expression. "Did we, uh. What woke you up?"

Peter shrugged, looking sheepish. "I dunno."

Matt studied him for another moment but then decided that so long as Peter seemed okay, and he did for the moment, he didn't want to push. He glanced towards Mohinder before he fetched the remote, turned off the DVD and TV which had both been showing a blue screen since the movie had ended a while ago, and then left for the bathroom to splash some water on his face.

Peter turned towards Mohinder in turn, managing to look both curious and wary.

Mohinder was quiet as Matt took off and lightly scratched the back of his long neck before he pulled himself up. He was incredibly rumpled, nothing even a hand through his hair could fix readily. Peter's questioning glance was met with a smile, though Mohinder didn't put that much heart into it. He felt confused, moreso when he put together the events of the last few days.

Bringing up Janice, wanting a family, the way he'd been reddening around him-- Could Matt--? It seemed insane. He'd been with Janice for so long, dated her, married her-- It was Mohinder's turn to blush as he headed to the kitchen, Peter on his heels.

He had to admit though... Matt hadn't pinged as anything before, but he was warm, he was comforting-- The way he took care of Molly-- No. The way he took care of him was enough to take his breath away at the best of times. Delving into his dreams to save him, that moment on the beach in his mind... Mohinder was left grinning slightly down at the chili that as he gave it a good stirring.

"Mohinder, really, that was creepy, you guys were just frozen like that--"

"I was having a nightmare," Mohinder replied since Peter wouldn't leave it alone. "He managed to pluck me from it. Set the table."

"Set the table-- Mohinder, there's--" Peter fell silent when the older man glanced up at him and smirked a little. The current of Mohinder's thoughts, the way he looked, and the embarrassment Matt had displayed pretty much told him that he didn't want to know any more. That was their business. "Yeah, sorry. Fine. Wasn't trying to pry."

Mohinder would be in a fairly good mood for dinner. And that was unfortunate for Matt, who would certainly get the brunt of his intense gaze.

Edited 2014-01-23 19:50 (UTC)

It would probably be even worse for Peter, because even though he much like Mohinder had a habit of making bad decisions he wasn't emotionally oblivious the way Matt sometimes was. Or maybe it was more that Matt was emotionally out of shape, in a way. He hadn't dated for years and years, had fallen into a routine with Janice long before she divorced him, and even before that he'd kept a bit on the edge of things. He was attentive, you had to be when you were a cop. But he saw it a lot more between other people than between people and himself.

So he couldn't figure out the way Mohinder was watching him and alternated between giving him a questioning look in turn or just altogether trying to avoid eye contact at all. If Peter hadn't just lived through what was likely the worst personal tragedy for him, he might have had a field day. But as it was it mostly seemed to make him even quieter.

Matt, in an effort to keep everyone a team and also to keep some kind of topic on the table that kept Mohinder from looking at him like that, looked up at Peter and gestured towards the geneticist. "We got hold of Bennet. We might be out of here tomorrow, if we're lucky."

Peter looked up at Mohinder with that, clearly wanting to know the details. It was news to him - they'd only told him to please stay put, and he had, and he'd hated it.

"Yeah? And then what?"

"And then we go after Sylar." Mohinder was more than willing to have the quiet dispersed. This was a topic that they needed to discuss and it might as well be now. Noah could call at any time and once they were through with a decontamination procedure, he wanted to waste as little time as possible to track down the killer.

Peter didn't put down his spoon, though he was on his third bowl and probably would go for a fourth to fill up his hollow legs if there was any left. "Uh-- No offense, Mohinder, but don't you think you'd be better off with the CDC? You know, helping them with the virus?"

Mohinder had no idea that it was Peter that helped that very virus be unleashed, or he might have shot back with something a little more appropriate than: "I'm tired of him hurting the people I care about. I want to see it to an end. I know how to use a gun--"

"Again--" Peter did put down the spoon now and glanced at Matt for back up. "I mean, you saw what happened when Matt shot at him. I really don't think you should come, Mohinder. It's not safe."

Matt didn't appreciate the reminder and gave Peter a look that clearly showed it, but in the end he couldn't exactly argue that point. He'd very nearly died. The doctors had told him over and over that he was really lucky and how close of a call it had been and he had four very unflattering scars to show for that little attempt.

"It's not safe for anyone", Matt said bluntly, not wanting to take either side of the argument and feeling impatient that there even were sides to begin with. He looked briefly to Mohinder and then back again to Peter. "If we go after him, we gotta be smart about it. That goes for all of us. You're- look, Peter? You're the strongest we have. But no offense, you're kind of a loose cannon right now."

Peter opened his mouth to argue but Matt stared him down. In this situation, he probably was the most authoritative on the topic. He'd also had the least personal run-ins with Sylar, and that likely helped his judgment.

"Grief makes you sloppy." A pointed look on Peter which was then he turned on Mohinder. "Revenge too. I want the son of a bitch dead for all he's done too, but ..." He gestured towards himself, but really, they were all survivors of what Sylar had done. "It's not that easy. My vote? If we're gonna do it, we're doing it like a team."

He wasn't strictly on Mohinder's side just for that, though. If they did it Matt's way they'd all agree on what exactly the plan would consist of and act their parts accordingly. Everyone had to be suited to their jobs. And that's only if they could get a lead on Sylar to begin with.

A team. Yes. Mohinder's smile was a little warmer -- though perhaps he'd been singled out a bit with the 'revenge' quip. He felt much better about the situation, and yes, he might not have a power, but it was the same argument Matt had made before. He didn't need one. He had something else Sylar wanted.

Molly. Lists of specials. In a way, Mohinder had become Sylar's touchstone. Where did he keep going back to but that apartment in Brooklyn, the one Mohinder's father first brought him to? Perhaps that was another reason to move out of there, actually. Mohinder reached for Peter's bowl to fill it with another helping of chili as the youngest of the three gave in to Matt's guidance.

Peter didn't like it, didn't like the thought of getting anyone hurt when he could be hurt himself. And yet, he couldn't shake the thought that Mohinder really might be useful.

As bait.

He saw those memories, plain as day. Matt might have tried not to look, but Peter had ripped them open. Weighing what he knew about Mohinder, and the way that Sylar had only injured the geneticist slightly whenever they'd been together without really hurting him, he thought he might have something there.

Oblivious to Peter's thought process, Mohinder gave Matt a not so subtle 'thank you' look before breaking him off another piece of bread.

"I saw some beer in the refrigerator. It might do us all a little good to cool our nerves a bit."

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