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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Too much alcohol kept away the dreams, kept away all thoughts at all, and sleep was vaguely uninteresting for the first time since he'd come to America. There weren't the sounds of gunshots in the distance, of backfiring traffic, or people yelling. Everything was quiet. And calm. Everything else was a little too warm but Texas nights took care of that.

He didn't wake up first. Instead, he'd tucked himself up against Matt, arm around most of his waist as if he'd become Mohinder's personal, oversized teddy bear. The heat of the Indian's breath caught in Matt's shirt and spread in and out as he exhaled.

This close and the wiring looking curls that eluded taming without the right hair products were soft on exposed skin. Mohinder didn't seem to understand boundaries in his sleep, not pressed so close, fingers curled in Matt's shirt.

Matt woke from sounds downstairs drifting into his consciousness, but that wasn't what registered first. What did was the very obvious but not unpleasant sensation of someone lying next to him, close and warm. It took him a while to really want to wake up with that, happy to just drift in the coziness for a while, but eventually he stretched and hummed slightly and shifted when another small noise downstairs made itself known.

And that's when he realized that it was Mohinder he had to pry away from him in order to move. That sure was an ... interesting moment, and Matt may or may not have murmured an "Oh, god" when it him, but he managed to sneak out of the other man's hold fairly smoothly. It was just. Way more boggling and a little distracting than it should have been to his still-fuzzy mind. He remained in the room for a second before he turned and carefully stepped down the stairs to find Peter serving himself breakfast, looking a lot fresher than Matt would have hoped to feel.

It was light out, so that hurt. Matt was practically peeking through his fingers at Peter who shot him a look over his shoulder, looking like he was still deciding whether to find that funny or just kind of annoying.

"Stop- stop thinking", Matt said before Peter had figured out which option to go with and went to look through the cabinets for some painkillers, gesturing over his shoulder towards the younger man as he went.

Peter just shrugged and poured some more cereal onto his yoghurt. "Told you."

"Yeah, I remember. Doesn't mean you have to keep thinking it."

Matt wasn't actually in a bad mood though, all things considered, and the glass of water to wash the pill down with was a welcome one. He didn't eat yet though, just sat by the table for a moment, trying not to think about much of anything and trying not to listen to whatever Peter might be. He just had the instinctual feeling he didn't want to know what Peter was thinking at the moment, so he tried extra hard with that.

"So how's Mohinder?" What? He wasn't thinking. He was talking. Matt said not to think but nothing about being snarky otherwise. He tried to keep the crunching to a minimum but cereal was inherently loud to eat. Pressing a finger across his lips, Peter watched Matt swallow some aspirin and lightly shifting a coffee cup towards his hand. He didn't care to do telekinesis with a finger as a guide, like Sylar did. His eyes, for little things, did well enough. "I heard...giggling?"

Probably not best to torment the larger man but Peter wasn't exactly afraid that Matt would pummel him for teasing him about his boyfriend. That was the term, right?

Peter knew next to nothing about Matt, after all. They'd hardly met really. He didn't even know that there was a little girl living with the two men until recently.

So sorry for getting things...wrong.

"He's probably going to be next to useless. I mean, you know him a lot better than I do but he looks like the sort of guy that gets hung over looking at a beer can."

Matt shot Peter a look that was, to his credit, only mildly terrified. Thankfully, he didn't seem to have to answer that one. He pursed his lips and leaned back in the chair with fingers pressing into his right temple.

"Mm, yeah, well. Until we hear from Bennet it's the end of the world out there so you know what, he can be as useless as he wants in my book." It took him a moment to realize that that wasn't the actual question, and he frowned slightly at himself before he just waved a hand in a loose gesture upwards. "He's asleep."

He'd had half a mind to protest that really, he didn't know Mohinder that well, but he'd seen the man be a father and so he really did know quite a few things no one else probably did. So he let that one be.

Instead he lobbied the question back to Peter.

"And you, how're you holding up?"

"Better than yesterday," Peter said with a huff and sort of literally flung himself into a chair as if he suddenly forgot he has some bones that wouldn't appreciate that. Coffee of his own and no headache to speak of, Peter's curiosity was getting the better of him as he peered through the smoke at Matt.

None of your business, Petrelli, but--

"Um...so how long?" Peter was a lot like Mohinder in many ways. They both had trouble not asking questions that the probably shouldn't. He slipped an arm over the back of his chair and tilted his head back. "If it's none of my business, that's cool too."

Just making small talk. But man, Mohinder was really thinking loudly about him. Never would have thought-- Oh, wonder if there's muffins--

Matt looked over at Peter like he'd grown an extra head before the penny finally, finally dropped. Quite literally, actually, since he'd been tipping his chair slightly and now decidedly wasn't.

"What?"

Want to try that one again, Matt?

"You think- oh, no. No, that's not it. No." He laughed in a somewhat awkward way and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "We're, um - we're taking care of Molly. God, she's this amazing little girl, but she ... Sylar murdered her parents. We just want to keep her safe."

Really, Peter, it should have been obvious. Probably.

"O-Oh! Wow, sorry!" Peter rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and turned properly in his chair. "I just thought-- And it's cool, I mean, he obviously is--" So said a man who had hair and eyes like a girl-- But that was neither here nor there. "It's cool that you don't mind. So you're taking care of a kid? What's that like?"

Upstairs, Mohinder was just waking up and before Peter could say anything else or Matt could even respond, a wave of sick, somewhat nauseating thoughts traveled down to them both. Peter bit his lower lip and looked up at the ceiling with a wince.

"I know I'm a registered nurse," he said, scratching his cheek with one finger, "but I am not holding his hair back if he--"

The pitter patter (or thump-thump-thump really) of geneticist feet break any thought at all as Mohinder tries to get to the bathroom before all hell breaks loose.

Peter tapped his fingers on the table and stood up. "Never mind. I've got this." Mohinder needed a little back rub and some water. Matt could sit it out.

A very good thing, since Matt was busy trying to keep those thoughts out of his head or he might feel sick too and that would be doubly bad.

"Thanks!" he called after Peter because that was a seriously good guy move on his end. And he appreciated it, especially when he leaned his head into his hands and tried to will some white noise into his own head, cause sick sounds would definitely not help the creeping nausea in his own body.

That said, Mohinder was way more of a lightweight than Matt was and when him and Peter slowly came down the stairs Matt looked up with a sympathetic smile.

"Wow Mohinder, you look like shit." He caught Peter's eye for a moment before he looked back at the geneticist, inclining his head slightly. "You're sticking to the beer next time."

"Yes, thank you, Matt. Always what a person wants to hear first thing in the morning," Mohinder grumbled and crawled dramatically -- and cat-like -- onto the sofa to flop on his stomach. One socked foot rested against the arm and he buried his head in a seat cushion.

"Actually," Peter chimed in helpfully, "it's almost noon and the first thing you heard was something like, 'holy crap, that can come out of a person?'"

One slim, brown-skinned arm jerked backward in Peter's general direction before the knuckles hit the floor, suddenly without the power to bat at the offending man in any way, shape or form.

Peter's smile was slightly crooked when he joined Matt back at the table and shrugged. "I think that's my cue to do one last lap. I'll be back in an hour." That meant that he wanted to get back to the bodies and finish digging, actually. Just in case it was awhile. "If Claire's dad-- If Noah calls, wait for me to get back, okay?"

Matt was amused by the exchange and gave Peter a small nod in response to the smile of his. Ribbing Mohinder had been a game Matt had enjoyed for months and so he was very welcoming to Peter's contributions.

His expression turned more serious when he nodded, though, and reached out to catch Peter's shoulder to halt him for a moment before he could leave.

"Let us know if you need us, alright? We're a team. And we're happy that you're here." He meant that, too. Peter was an asset, but much more than that, he was in the same situation as them and had just lost someone incredibly important. They should stick together. Help each other out.

He waited for Peter's nod of understanding before he let him go. Then he proceeded to feel antsy for no reason, which was dumb, so he battled it by attempting to ignore it. It was a few moments after the door had shut again that he adressed Mohinder.

"Hey." He leaned against the wall halfway-separated the living room from the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the miserable pile of a human that was his flatmate and co-parent. "Need an aspirin?"

Why is there talking? Mohinder thought miserably, burrowing his face further into the cushion as if to drown it out. And noise? Why are things spinning-- Oh God, what if it's my super power to make things spin like this when very hung over? The chatter didn't stop either, not in his own head at least. His mind wandered to a place where it might seek a little refuge from the daylight but alas, he didn't have Matt's mental acumen.

Mohinder cracked an eye at Matt, the way he was standing there, smirking like that. He wanted to throw something at him, but it dawned on him that it would be useless to do so. Matt would probably know he was doing it before he could even grab a pillow!

Damn telepaths. Always cheating.

"I might throw up an aspirin," Mohinder replied as he rolled onto his side, facing the back of the couch now. "I probably will throw up any way. Why do people drink?"

Because it was fun to drink. It just wasn't fun to put up with what happened after drinking. Mohinder tugged the afghan off of the back of the couch and draped it over his head.

Dying would be pretty good about now.

Matt snorted in part amusement, part disbelief. "Seriously? I never thought you'd be the one for melodrama around here."

He pushed away from the wall to go further into the living room, glancing at Mohinder as he passed him but aiming to pick up the cell phone they'd taken from Primatech, just wanting to make sure that there were no missed calls or texts. There weren't, but when he put it down his eyes landed on his folder, and that's where he really wound up hesitating.

In the end he picked it up and started towards the kitchen again.

"There's still stuff to eat", he tossed over his shoulder when he passed Mohinder again. "For whenever you don't feel like dying anymore."

Personally, he was going to eat something. It'd help with the headache. Whether looking at the Company file on him would make that worse or not in turn remained to be seen.

It's not melodramatic if I'm actually dying, he shot back, the way he use to do it when Molly would chastise them for arguing while she was doing homework. He could hear Matt's chuckle in response and grinned a little into the cushions. No matter how bad things got, he could still rely on Matt. It was probably the best feeling he'd had in days.

Peter didn't come back in an hour, but no one really thought he would. While Mohinder napped and Matt poked around the kitchen, he finished burying the bodies. It was nearing dinner when Peter crept into the house, as if expecting to find something like he'd had the other day between the other two. Luckily, Matt was only looking absently at some ice cream and Mohinder's thoughts were unreadable in his sleep.

He was about to mention going up for a shower when the phone rang on the kitchen table.

Peter looked expectantly at Matt. Noah had come through after all. And weren't they lucky they had Peter? Decontamination could literally be teleported into if they were careful enough. Noah had pulled some strings but he and the Company were only very tentatively working together.

Common goals made enemies friends.

Matt looked back at Peter for a loaded moment before he picked up and answered the phone.

Things went by quite quickly after that.

Although the CDC was involved they didn't quite know what orders they were operating under - not that this mattered terribly to the Company, who had people on their side they wouldn't share much about but who could do things to help the process along. Maury might have been one of them if he wasn't locked into his own head, but there was no telling what kind of specials they had working for them. Matt knew he wasn't eager to find out and he still didn't like the Company getting involved to begin with, but he did trust Bennet for the time being. He would have even if there hadn't been little choice.

A decontamination area was already in the process of being set up when Bennet was filling Matt in on the details. Matt, in turn, would angle the phone away to ask Peter for details whenever they were needed - approximation on dead people, for example. When Mohinder woke up from the sound of the others speaking the phone started getting passed back and forth. It wasn't a long call but there was a lot of ground to cover with it.

Teleportation did wind up their fastest and most secure option and Peter got to take both Matt and Mohinder outside of what used to be central Odessa, right into an airtight temporary tent-thing they got to be herded through. There were several closed off and controlled sections in the structure. In the first room they all had to get rid of their clothes and any objects they had on them. What followed were checks for symptoms, blood being drawn for later testing, fresh clothes. It was hectic and odd with the people fussing over them covered head to toe in protective gear.

Matt was too tired of the whole thing to give a damn.

In the end, they were asked to wait while people passed back and forth, deciding whether they dared to let the three out into the world yet. Peter didn't seem tired at all, but patiently waiting for the go-ahead to dash out and leave this stage of his life behind him. Mohinder was probably restraining himself from asking about the findings and plans for the contaminated items and areas one more time.

Matt was leaning against a white plastic-like wall, feeling impatient and trying to read the mind of the small group of people hovering by the computer screen in the other room.

Dressed in light gray running trousers and a slightly too large gray t-shirt (and very happy to no longer be naked with the other two men), Mohinder picked himself up from the floor and immediately went to Matt. He could tell his friend was playing through the thoughts he could reach, and while he didn't want to wreck his concentration, he couldn't stay silent for so long.

"They already did a micro-organic shower. We have no symptoms, the air in this compartment is self contained and there's absolutely nothing left to test for. We know the viral incubation period." It made Mohinder nervous as he tried the lean-again-the-tent technique, not mirroring Matt so much as trying to get comfortable.

Must be asking how we arrived. Company protocols could have us taken into custody...

Mohinder wasn't the sort of man to be paranoid, though he absolutely had the cause to be after all he'd gone through. Curls flattened between the plastic and the back of his head as he stared at the shadows moving outside.

"I just want--"

"Doctor Suresh, officer Parkman, Mister Petrelli, would you please move into the next compartment?" a static, intercom voice interrupted him. Mohinder was all about going first, though Peter's stride beat him to it as he pushed through the plastic zippered door. Mohinder stepped out beside him and found Noah, hands on his hips, looking a little amused but trying not to be.

"You three--" Not that Noah would look at Mohinder. "You three were never here."

Peter's brows furrowed. That might be fair...considering how Peter had helped set Adam free.

"Right." Matt fixed Bennet with a look that wasn't hostile, but to the point - their history had been a shaky one, but Noah had proved himself a good man in Matt's eyes at the end of it. It was just that he still had that infuriating way of not quite playing fair, almost regardless of the situation. Kept his cards close to his chest. "What now?"

The older man shifted his stance slightly, looking back at Matt first, then to Peter. "Now, I'm going to handle it. I suggest you speak very quietly about this. Right now, no one has to know." His eyebrows raised slightly and he tilted his head, observing them through his glances, even shooting Mohinder a pointed glance. There was that slight curl of a smirk in place, too. The one that had made Matt want to strangle him at times. "I'll let you know if I need you."

He turned and gestured to a table behind him. Their items, previously packed into plastic bags and taken away, were tossed a bit haphazardly on the surface. Not that there were many.

"Your belongings are all accounted for. Well, except your clothes, I'm afraid. But I think you can manage, can't you?"

Matt didn't give a damn. Peter still seemed mostly anxious to get out of there, not quite liking the way Noah looked at him. But in true Peter-fashion, he still had to ask. He needed to make amends and wasn't quite sure how yet. "Alright. So we just leave? You sure?"

It was met with a slight nod and a head lightly tilted to the side as if to ask if there were any more questions.

Mohinder had nothing else to say and being around Noah after the last few days he'd spent with him was uncomfortable. His mind kept replaying the encounter-- He'd been so used, so used by everyone, and when he shot the man, for a moment, he'd actually felt like he'd gotten a little bit of control back seconds before he realised he'd been used to do that too.

Touching the bandage over his nose, Mohinder took a moment to calm himself before he retrieved his wallet from the table. Peter wasn't as willing to be so quiet. "Sylar's back."

Mohinder tilted his head forward, teeth gritting, and ignored the wave of panic he had just hearing someone else say it. Bennet's voice was low. Dangerous. "What?" His phone chose that particular moment to go off and pulling his bottom lip angrily against his lower lip, he raised a finger towards Peter and answered. Immediately agitated, Bennet headed towards the door. "I'm on my way. I'll be there as soon as possible."

Mohinder's head snapped up. "Oh god, tell me there isn't a new outbreak--"

"No," Bennet replied, and Mohinder's eyes widened to see the worry on the other's face. "Sylar got to Claire."

"Shit."

Matt pocketed his wallet and cell phone (still dead) and followed Bennet out the door. He barely registered that this brought them all out into the open air. Compared to the silence inside Odessa this place was bustling with activity; there were several cars surrounding the immediate area, temporary stations set up here and there to let people monitor the area and make plans on how to deal with the dead and the fact that half the town was an apocalyptic health hazard. There were media vans as well, further away - trying to get closer. Cover the story. Get something to write about and broadcast.

Bennet waved a few people away when they approached him, but there weren't many of them. He wasn't in charge of the operation and if he was, he clearly didn't want to be right then, if the tight "I'll deal with it later" barked at one of those people was any indication.

"We're coming with you", Matt said in an urgent tone of voice, not even bothering to actually check with the others since it had been abundantly clear that they all wanted revenge on the killer the night prior. This was bad. It was absolutely horrifying, if you stopped to think for more than two seconds. That's part of the reason he didn't. "Let us help. Where is he? ... Costa Verde?"

Plucking the thought from the man's head, Bennet seemed frustrated for a moment that he'd actually been thinking to begin with. Well, tough.

Peter caught up between the two of them. Whatever progress he'd made temper-wise seemed to have regressed with the news. Claire was his niece - he loved her. He couldn't lose her, too. Couldn't see her hurt. "He can't be far. We'll surround him, chase the son of a bitch down. We can kill him. I know the spot."

By the time the arrive near Bennet's home, Mohinder has fully, consciously, and vocally decided (albeit in Hindi) that he does not like teleportation. At all. Planes are a hassle, long lines, security checks, and whatever, but they don't leave him ready to throw up on his shows after experiencing it.

Couple it with Mohinder's belief that killing Sylar is now impossible and the stream of darkness that surrounded him seemed almost impenetrable.

Why would Sylar stay if he'd gotten to Claire? Mohinder and Matt stood in the back room while Noah and Peter and the girl's mother attempted to console her, though her voice sounded...nominal. Almost as if she didn't care any more.

Like she was numb.

Mohinder crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at Matt. "If we can't stop him physically-- Matt, I don't know what we're going to do. Or how we're going to find him." Not unless they use Molly--

And Mohinder is adamantly against that.

"Molly's staying out of this", Matt answered the thought shortly - fierce, protective. There was no discussion. They weren't putting that girl through anything else and the look he gave Mohinder clearly said as much. Matt still held a fair amount of guilt over what had gone down with his father, and there was absolutely no way he'd ask her to do anything for him again.

He listened to the people in the other room for a moment, but he was thinking about the same things Mohinder had already voiced. Claire seemed at least a little better to have Peter there, but her voice, her entire demeanor, seemed .. yeah. Worrying.

"He can't teleport, can't stop time. You said he'd been sick all this time, right?" He looked for the confirmation, a short beat of silence. "Right, so we know he doesn't have anything we don't already know about. We can take him, Mohinder", he added, looking him seriously in the eyes. "He's not getting away this time."

Immediately defensive, Mohinder shot back with: "I wouldn't let you use her again!" which was, understandably, not the sort of argument that they ought to be having now. He'd been against Matt using Molly to find his dad and what happened to her? She'd been locked up inside of her own mind. Hundreds of miles away from where the man had been hiding! Mohinder realised, at least, that fighting right now was a bad idea. They'd fought over it before. It hadn't really come to a resolution but it was enough to let Mohinder remove his talons from the objection. He moved to pinch the bridge of his nose and luckily, thought better of it.

So he apologised before they could start yelling at each other again. When this was over, when this was settled, they'd have to have it all out. Hopefully it would resolve itself, bring them both a little closure but for now--

Discussing Sylar's abilities were just a bit beyond Mohinder. He didn't know if Sylar would be able to retain the powers he'd had before, or what powers he might have gotten while Mohinder was stuck in Odessa. Though-- "It would have taken him time to track down the Bennets. And that means he wouldn't have had time to try to get the list of other people with abilities. He can feel people with abilities. I've seen him do it, Matt," Mohinder said, feeling more and more sick to his stomach. "The only way he'd be able to hunt down more would be to get to Molly, to get to me, or to stand in the middle of a crowd and hope to follow someone home."

Which made Mohinder swallow.

"He's probably on his way back to New York."

It was fortunate that Mohinder chose to let it go, at least for the moment, because the way Matt looked at him quickly became dangerously tense. He'd been just as scared as Mohinder had been, and oh, he was still swimming in the guilt of it all, but he'd gotten her back. And if they were really going to fight about it he wasn't above snapping at Mohinder for the crap he had pulled, either.

But as it was dropped, he just grit his teeth and looked away for a moment. They didn't have time for this. They could yell all they wanted later, but right now ...

Well, right now there was new and worrying information, and Matt's eyes snapped up to Mohinder's face again.

"Feel them? Feel them how?" And with a slow breath, listening to the many thoughts in Mohinder's mind, "New York. Great. The list is still there." He stood up straighter, no longer leaning against the wall. "We get there before him. He'll know we're there, but he's cocky. Arrogant. I've seen these people before, the kind that ... they- the moment they think they're invincible, that's when they stop being careful. We just need a plan. I'll get Peter."

Teleporting. Again. Mohinder let his anxiety about that out with an exhale through his nose. His eyes closed for a moment before he lightly touched Matt on the arm to keep him there for a moment. "After I tried to put an end to the man, Peter inadvertently came to my rescue. Sylar knew it about it even before the door opened. It's as if his ability allows him to sense when another ability is near. It's a bit like Peter's empathy. In fact, I might say it works similarly enough that we need to... We need to be careful."

Sylar might not collect powers the way that Peter could, and he might not access his powers the way that Peter was able to either, but rewriting your DNA (and that was just a theory, Mohinder had never studied Sylar for more than the hour he'd been drugged and tied up in his flat) must take parts of yourself away in the process. Right?

"The more he changes himself, the more dangerous he becomes. Not simply due to his power acquisition, but because he becomes so much more desperate. It's as if what he can do is an addiction. Now-- I doubt he'll be able to fly home, considering how he looks and the reduced air traffic due to the outbreak but he's got a head start. And who knows if he'll make any stops on the way back. He have a few days at least."

A few days to prepare...

Peter found them before Matt could retrieve Peter and when Mohinder repeated what he'd told Matt, Peter nodded stoically.

"You guys ready?" Hands on each of their shoulders, Mohinder wasn't given time to protest before they're standing in his living room with a screaming, afraid young woman. Her eyes immediately turned black-- Mohinder, having felt this before, pressed a hand to his chest.

"Maya-- Maya, stop!"

Edited 2014-01-27 16:19 (UTC)

Matt found that he wasn't nearly as averse to teleportation as Mohinder, but this was probably due to the fact that he'd tried human flight and teleportation easily knocked that one out of the park. The moment of vertigo and disorientation was worth it for the swiftness and precision of the whole thing.

This - the sudden sensation of choking, the loudness of the strange voice, those things coupled with that vertigo had Matt on his knees before he'd even properly managed to take in the sight of those familiar walls of what had somewhere down the line become his home.

Bracing himself against his arms he heard the frantic sobbing voice of Maya, heard her thoughts too, it was all a mess, and then somewhere behind him Peter drew in a choked breath and made a sound that was a bit like coughing except there was no air behind it. When Matt's shoulder hit the floor, his vision blurred, he caught the black eyes of Peter staring desperately back at him.

He felt faint.

Thing was, Maya had started calming down, willed himself to the moment she recognised Mohinder, rambling apologies mixed with tears, saying she was sorry, she didn't know where else to go, so sorry - but as her eyes eventually cleared, Peter's didn't. He had no idea how to control it.

"_{Help ...}"

The double whammy of both powers hitting him at once, no matter how quickly Maya's cleared up, has Mohinder breathless. The woman's face is tracking tears as she goes to Mohinder in apology, but the Indian lightly, and weakly, pushes her off. "Maya--"

"He's like me!" she proclaimed, perhaps a little too much wonder than Mohinder would have liked (though completely understood).

"Go-- Tell him... Calm him down--" At least she didn't argue the point. She was smart and understood at least he role in this. She gripped Peter by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. Much of what she said was in Spanish, but either her tones were soothing or Peter had retained enough high school Spanish to understand enough what she was saying to him.

Though Mohinder was not a religious man, he did thank God when the pressure off of his chest and the sickness running through his veins cleared up. He got himself slowly to his feet before offering a hand to Matt.

"Maya...this is Matt Parkman and Peter Petrelli. They both have abilities like you. Peter is able to mimic abilities. Matt is a telepath." Yep. Outing everyone. They didn't have time to play here. "Did Sylar come back?"

Maya shook her head, still petting Peter like she might a dog. "No-- Why?"

"We're pretty sure he'll be on his way here...perhaps for the computer." Or for Mohinder himself.

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Sorry about being MIA this weekend. I was dragged out.

hey, it's what weekends are for!

Phew! Back to regularly scheduled tagging!

welcome back!!

Thanks!

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