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

Mohinder didn't appreciate being loomed over, but he kept his hands back against the counter he was forced to lean against rather than give Matt the push he absolutely deserved. They didn't need to turn another fight physical. Mohinder was tough, but he'd been punched enough in his life to never want to experience that again. His poor face wouldn't take it.

Matt's intense agitation didn't egg Mohinder on, luckily. As Matt grew frustrated and upset and frankly, a bit horrible mentioning the dead of Odessa, Mohinder found himself deflated and ill at ease with the other man. Trust was not an issue. He didn't believe Matt would use his ability against him like that any way.

White flag. Truce. Mohinder held up his hands, palms up.

"All right, all right," he said, trying to be soothing. The accent surely helped. He didn't mention the sudden jealous thought about how Peter had known, that there had been time for Peter because it didn't matter. "The things I've done-- I can't take them back. No matter how much I might wish I could." He dropped both his hands and his eyes away from Matt, shoulders slumping as he exhaled the anger from his body. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't feel obligated to tell me anything you don't want to, nor anything you're not comfortable with."

His head was hurting all over again.

And just like that, Matt was done being angry, too. At least in the phyical sense. He backed off in a literal way, sat down at the kitchen table with his head in one hand as he absorbed the apology. Returned it.

"I ... I did mean to tell you, Mohinder. I promise. Molly, she's- she's our girl, you said so yourself. That won't work unless we're friends, and ... I'm trying. I am, I'm sorry." He thought briefly to Janice, again. She'd talked about it too, about how he'd never really talked to her, but that had come from Matt figuring that she didn't want to listen to him anyway. It wsn't that way now, was it?

When he was saying that he wasn't looking at Mohinder, but he looked up at him again with a different expression after a small period of silence.

"You know what I did to my dad?" He waited for the no surface either verbally or mentally before he shrugged. Looked away again, moved his hand from his face to pick at something on the table. "I trapped him in a nightmare. Same way he trapped Molly. What kind of power is that?"

As Matt retreated, Mohinder followed, sitting in 'his' spot at the table, across from Matt. He laid a hand on the table, as if prepared to touch the other man, though he was fairly certain that wouldn't be wanted. It was easier to comfort women and children. Men... Men just wanted solemn nods or shoulder nudges. Camaraderie like that was more difficult for Mohinder to wrap his head around, honestly.

And still? He tried.

When Matt looked at him, all he would see was an interested, concerned friend. Mohinder might be a scientist, he might be dying to know how Matt could do what he could do, but he understood that this power was frightening to Matt-- It was frightening to him as well.

Mouth open, Mohinder shut it again and swallowed.

"I'm sorry your dad ended up being-- But Matt, you're not your father. You're a good man. A good man with a difficult ability, yes, but still a good man. The power-- It could go either way. If you use it for good-- Locking your father up? That was good. You protected our girl."

Matt smiled slightly and shook his head. "Yeah. 'Cept she wouldn't have been in that nightmare anyway if I hadn't made her look for him. I heard her scream for us in her head, you know."

It was coming up a bit now. Maybe it was the wish to explain now, in a better way, the apology evident in his body language altogether - he was making himself smaller just by the way he was leaning. Meaning, basically, that this was the real issue. The avoidance was a clear indicator.

Maybe it also had to do with the fact that they were home again. They'd both tried so damn hard to keep this place safe and it held so much familiarity.

"Besides, you made it pretty clear how much you hated that move. I guess I just ... wasn't sure how you'd react. Knowing that I can do the same thing. Or worse."

"I care for you." Possibly something men don't say to each other, Mohinder couldn't help himself as he leaned towards Matt. His friend might be shrinking himself down, might be hiding, but Mohinder couldn't hide. That was the worst of it. He was an open book, and he knew it.

It was sort of amazing how different they were when it came right down to it. Mohinder broached the distance, however, and reached forward to put his hand on the other man's shoulder.

"I know you might think that doesn't matter--" Americans. He smirked slightly at that. "But there may well be nothing you could tell me that would push me so far away that I wouldn't be willing to listen to anything at all that you'd want to tell me."

He might not have had friends, or experience with friends, but he trusted Matt implicitly.

"Whatever is going on inside your head... It's safe to tell me. Or... Or not tell me. Whatever you decide."

Matt was looking down, but he nodded. "No, that ... does mean a lot. Thanks."

He wasn't all that good with friends either, to be perfectly honest. At least none to this degree, that knew a lot about him and were in such a close situation to him. He'd had buddies and acquaintances but for years the person he'd felt closest to was Janice and she was out of the picture.

So when he looked up again with a small smile to show for that gratitude, well. It was just nice to have a moment of that silence after all the yelling they never seemed to manage to go that long without.

And that's when Peter cleared his throat and almost made Matt jump. The younger man was leaning against the door frame to the bedroom.

"Are you two lovebirds settled yet, or do you need another minute? Cause I could ..."

He gestured towards the apartment door, eyebrows raised.

Oh! Oh the look Mohinder gave Peter was more than a little annoyed. He was having a moment-- He couldn't help but feel a little cheated. Getting to his feet, he went back to the kitchen to make Matt a sandwich too. "We're fine. Sorry for the outburst," he promised, leaving the crusts on this particular concoction. He added blackberry jam as well and placed the dish in front of Matt before finally pouring himself a cup of tea.

They still had work to do, even if that work was just a lot of resting and discussing contingency plans. He didn't appreciate Peter being...

Observant. Whatever he might feel for Matt, something he was honestly unsure of himself, he didn't care to have it advertised. Making the effort to guard his thoughts, Mohinder made one more sandwich for Peter and then went to sit on the couch.

The waiting game?

They were getting good at it.

Peter gave Matt an upward tilting eyebrow and shrugged a sorry in his direction. Sorry for interrupting that was.

Somehow, Matt didn't think Peter was entirely sorry, but he didn't have the energy to actually question that other by raising his eyebrows right back. There was a pause of silence as the telepaths had a brief communication about it, because Peter couldn't help but think it - So ... is it always like this? to which Matt thought back with a roll of his eyes, No, actually.

Because it wasn't. Most of the time things were ... fine. Easy, even happy. It was just that it seemed like Matt and Mohinder both dealt with pressure points by trying to yell them into disappearing.

He couldn't help but feel a bit of a loss when Mohinder left the room even if it was only a short distance. It was odd, but in the end he didn't try to get him to come back. What would he say, really?

He took a bite out of the sandwich instead and spoke around the mouthful of bread.

"So, Sylar", and that's where they started bullet pointing what they knew what he could do, a discussion that lasted a while as it was an unreliable memory game. Eventually they got to a different but related topic, one of what Sylar wanted from them, and this had Matt worry his lip as he shot Mohinder a glance.

Molly. Mohinder.

Honestly, all of them, but Matt knew reasons why both of them would be of particular interest to the killer. ... actually, if he didn't advertise his power? He was probably the least interesting of the bunch to him. That was only somewhat comforting.

"He wants this," Mohinder said after the conversation died down, holding up a thumb drive. "I'm going to wipe everything on this computer. All of my research, all of my father's algorithms for finding people like you, all of my work on how to look for genetic markers in cheek swabs. And, unfortunately, Molly's progress on her princess game." The corners of his lips drifted upwards. Mohinder just needed a little time to brood, and to work alone, to feel more like he was part of the team again.

He rounded the beaten up sofa, computer balanced on one hand, and tossed the thumb drive at Peter.

"Put this somewhere safe," he said. "Anywhere in the world you'd like. I don't want to know about it. I don't want Sylar to get anything from me," no matter what, came the implication.

Of course, Mohinder still knew most of what was in this computer in his head. He could still talk, but without the computer program (something even he couldn't recreate), Sylar would be lost.

Peter nodded and disappeared. Matt didn't think he'd ever quite get used to that - to look at a person and then suddenly be looking at nothing. But with teleportation the entire world was a playground and that meant that trying to find something of that size would be impossible without the information on where to look.

It was a good plan. A good start.

When a different thought occured to him, Matt went past Mohinder to pick up the remote and turn on the TV. They couldn't keep Odessa covered up forever - it had been several days since the initial blackout, after all. And sure enough, the news were littered with theories, even if no one seemed to have the true story or even any footage. Mostly, there were people looking confused, just knowing that nothing added up.

"I wonder how they're gonna cover for this one", Matt said, trying to figure out if they could use it somehow. "Sylar knows about it ... Any chance of telling him we're contagious?" His smile was sardonic.

Door flying off the hinges was a good excuse for Mohinder not to answer and, despite his smaller size, he instinctively dragged Matt down to the floor with him behind the couch as a terrifyingly familiar shadow passed into the apartment.

While Mohinder might not have answered, a new voice certainly did. "I don't think that's something I have to worry about any more," Sylar told the pair and glanced around the apartment. "You really need to sound proof your apartment a little better. I could hear you coming up the stairs."

A swipe of a finger slid the couch into Chandra's curio cabinet, breaking half of what had been left from the first time Sylar had sat in this flat with Mohinder.

"Mohinder, let's not be silly. Your blood is in my veins. We're practically family."

Matt was practically snarling. If Maya's presence in the apartment had gotten under his skin, the way Sylar did it was like cutting him open. The arrogance was expected - the casual familiarity of it slightly less so. Matt had been the one usually seeing what Sylar had done, but not the man himself. If he hadn't hated him before, he certainly did now.

He stood and latched onto Sylar's thoughts. If he could tell his actions before he performed them things would go one hell of a lot smoother. They needed Peter back.

"You're no one's family", Matt snapped at him, instinctively shielding Mohinder by the way he positioned himself. A subtle motion but a very protective one. "You're a killer."

He tuned in on Mohinder's thoughts as well and let it be known, a slight nudge between minds. They needed to work together. They could communicate without Sylar knowing, and that was another thing they had over him.

"Now this is cute," Sylar said, standing his ground with the tilt of his head, like a lion gaining the scent of his prey. Matt might be angry and Mohinder was instinctively afraid, but Sylar was once more at the top of the food chain. His thoughts were violent...and, strangely enough, affectionate. The way he spoke to Mohinder wasn't just familiar or friendly, but there was an underlying enjoyment that Sylar had about him as he watched Mohinder move.

At least until Matt blocked his view. That would never do.

While Mohinder was feeding Matt cues to keep Sylar busy until Peter returned, the psychopath was having none of the pressure he'd smelled coming from the larger man. "What is that you're doing?"

Sylar took a step forward and Mohinder, hearing that, put a hand on Matt's back. "We were trying to watch television," Mohinder stupidly spat out.

"Quiet, Doctor, the big boys are going to have a discussion," Sylar snapped, telekinetically shoving Mohinder back into the television. The anguished sound, and the breaking of the electronic, did make Sylar grin.

Mohinder made the best noises.

Not only a psychopath, but a sadistic one. Matt felt rattled but held his ground, intimidated by the mess of thoughts in Sylar's head but trying to put his training before his emotions. Sylar was a bad guy, Matt was a cop. It was a simple equation.

Especially when he hurt people he cared about. It took him a lot of willpower to not turn away and see if Mohinder was hurt, but he knew his priorities. Right now, they equated to stalling.

He still asked, though. Projected the thought in a hurried mix of words. You okay? I'll kill him --

It made his verbal answer, the one to Sylar, come out half a second too late. Maybe Sylar would take it as fear. That would be good. "Me?" He raised his head slightly to look down at the killer, not afraid of the eye contact. He was only barely taller. His hands were slightly lifted between them. "You want to know what I'm doing? I'm going to put you down. Wanna guess how?"

Sylar seemed to find it highly amusing. Matt inclined his head slightly, listening for anything, ready to move. The gun was still in the drawer - it wouldn't do much good at all, but it was there. Peter could be anywhere.

He would have tried to push his thoughts at Sylar already except the hacked up mess in Sylar's head was frightening to project into, and if it failed, they didn't have backup yet.

Mohinder hadn't been lying when he said that Sylar wasn't really himself. The person that had been Gabriel Gray, the person with such potential, had been turned into something else by the introduction to his ability. Absorbing powers was one thing, but he didn't just make another person's emotions part of himself...he made their very genetic code part of himself. Despite the reset of his abilities, his mind was still scarred and difficult to predict. His desires were bestial and horrifying, and deep down, underneath it all, rather childish. He wanted to be someone. And he wanted to stop everyone else from being anyone.

Mohinder felt jarred, his back and his left arm hurt, but he'd suffered worse and so he did make sure to let Matt know that, no matter appearances, he was all right. You can't kill him, but he can kill you. Memories of that dream, of seeing Matt dead... You have to be careful!

Mohinder groaned as he pulled himself out of the remains of the entertainment centre even as Sylar was giving Matt the wild animal stalking treatment. His smile was indeed sadistic, though he'd seen the way Matt's face had contorted when he heard Mohinder-- Well he couldn't help himself.

"I really hate games. How about you just tell me?" A flicker of dark eyes left Matt's face towards Mohinder, who found himself crawling up the wall by a force against his chest.

It was hard to breathe.

At least the Indian realised what Sylar was doing now. He was back to playing around. Waiting Matt out.

He knows you're able to do something...he wants it.

Matt's eyes flickered as he listened again to Mohinder. He's not getting it. There was no way he would let himself be killed and used by Sylar - with his recent powers ... mind control in the hands of a psychopath - just no. No, he couldn't let that happen.

He could kill him. Everybody died. It was just a matter of patience and skill. Everyone could be outsmarted. This ass could too.

Matt huffed out a breath through his nose, felt so damn vulnerable without a gun in his hands, but he knew he could handle it. Besides, Sylar seemed to like the slow game, at least for now. Drawn out pain, isn't that nice?

Jesus.

"Yeah? Could've fooled me", Matt said, managing to mask the urgency in his tone as he listened to the moving sounds behind him, the shortage of breath. "Way you chase everyone around? It's all a big game to you, isn't it? Tell you what", he said, raising a hand further, the way he did reflexively when talking people down. "Maybe I'll tell you when you stop hurting my friend. Alright?"

"Your friend? Our friend," Sylar corrected. "I know we've had some trust issues in the past, but the Sureshes and I? We have a connection." Mohinder's voice sounded startlingly choked as he gasped and cried out, Sylar's smile morphing into one that could only be described at pleased.

Yes, he took pleasure in hurting people. Yes, even more than he did in scaring people. Mohinder's voice and facial gestures were just about perfect for both of his favorite past times.

"Not only did his dad help me figure out who I could be, but his son showed me who I'm meant to be. I have a lot of thanks to give to him." Sylar dropped his hand and Mohinder dropped with it, though the Indian immediately tried to push himself off of the floor.

Sylar let him. Cute to watch him struggle like that.

"Wait a second, tubby. I know you, don't I? Shot yourself, didn't you? Protective fat layer save your life?" He was starting to get antsy. Sylar's attention was divided. He moved closer to Matt just the same and thought about knocking him into the wall next.

Matt's eyes darkened considerably at that thought but kept in tune to the rest of them. He even dared to smirk slightly when Sylar started taunting him.

"That's right. Forget the time I hit my target? Huh?"

Because he'd hit him, when he'd threatened Audrey. No blood on the scene, no marks later - but he'd dropped. And he'd fled.

It seemed that was what it took for Sylar to rapidly approach the idea of smacking Matt into the wall, and the moment he noticed he took a breath and ... well, he couldn't describe it. It was like a leap. A sudden push, an idea - you don't want to hurt me. Or him.

He kept eye contact because it ... had usually made it somewhat easier, the process of pushing, and pushing hard. It was a struggle, it was surprisingly difficult to plant something like that in the dark fractured mind of the psychipathic killer, but he'd hold him there if he could, as long as he could.

You're not going to do anything.

One moment he'd been lifting his arm and the next, Sylar's eyes glazed over. He held Matt's gaze reluctantly at first and then his body seemed to relax in a big sigh with the fingers of each hand uncurling gently against his pant legs.

Sucking in a breath as he stood, trying not to whimper and look weak, Mohinder limped towards Matt with blood at the corner of his mouth and his hair more of a mess than it'd been in Texas. Rather than look at Matt in horror with what he could do, the geneticist grinned somewhat painfully at his friend.

"How long--"

Interrupted a moment later by a wall of air against his chest and Matt's, sending them into a heap on the floor, Sylar growled dangerously, like a wolf.

"Oh! I'm going to love this one!"

Matt had just been about to reach for Mohinder, his arm or something to check that he was fine. In the end he'd only just looked away from Sylar when he broke through the control and his elbow hit the floor, painfully, when he tried to catch himself.

Sylar approaching them was the last thing he wanted to see.

"Nobody move!"

It was a shout that showed how he'd fall back on his training; it was the instinctive thing to yell in these situations, but he backed it with the urgent, almost desperate mental command that'd trap both Sylar and Mohinder in their movements.

It took effort. He was breathing hard when he got to his feet, but now he didn't dare look away from Sylar, fought with the weird mix of glee and rage to be found in the man's eyes.

It wasn't going to hold unless he did something drastic. They still needed Peter. He should be back by now.

Peter thought they had time. Time enough to stop by his former sister-in-law's to see his nephews. They were the last piece of Nathan he had left and though he'd only meant to be gone a moment or two, he ended up staying for lunch. Despite the peanut butter sandwich Mohinder made for him. They didn't know their father was dead. Peter hadn't been planning on mentioning it until the news about Odessa came out.

Unfortunately, Peter held too much emotion.

Matt was left to struggle with Sylar alone, with the tenacious mind he could feel struggling against him. Sylar's thoughts were still free range but more and more, they were focused on Matt, on the power, on needing to know how it worked. The rage in his head was just as terrifying, caged up and oppressive. Sylar wanted out so badly he was screaming.

And yet-- There was still something in there too, something sickened by himself, by what he could do and what he did with it. Something that needed answers, that wanted to let Matt win this one.

Mohinder was more or less out, no way to protect himself from Matt's suggestion, and it was just as well. He had at least one broken rib and breathing hurt. Staying still was the best thing for him.

Without quite explaining why or how it had come to him, Matt slowly approached Sylar and placed a hand to his temples, fingers spread. His usual go to was eye contact. He'd noticed it increasingly lately, the way it seemed to open something up. He wasn't expecting touch to do the same even if it seemed he would have on a more subconscious level.

It was crazy. It was fractured. He wasn't ready for the onslaught of that sickness in his head - hadn't felt anything like that before, the split open, barely-together ideas that yet ... yet, they were so focused, striving so hard onwards. It was like an animal, a predator, all teeth and no sense, except for the instinct that was terrifyingly clear.

He only fought it for a moment before he had to back away like he was burnt. It was like recoil, shooting up his arm, clawing at his head, and god, it hurt. It hurt a lot.

That flinch let both Sylar and Mohinder loose. Matt felt faint. Was quickly growing to hate that feeling.

"You sick fuck --"

Sylar was dumbstruck, awe in his eyes and across his face as he stared Matt down. He was curious more than anything else, fascinated. He'd lost complete control of himself for just a minute but it was enough to know that he'd be unstoppable with Matt's ability.

That flinch was all that Sylar needed to pull himself together and to pin Matt once more against the wall. Sylar's predatory style was seductive, the way he leaned in, the way his lips pulled back to flash white, even teeth. Even the glimmer in his eyes read sex as he lifted his finger as he'd done so many times before to slice into a person's head.

"Because you care so much, the moment I get finished sorting through your brains, I'm going to try your little tricks out on our good friend the doctor there," Sylar whispered, Mohinder hardly able to get up.

The first slice started easily enough. Getting through bone was difficult and Sylar liked to take things very, very slowly.

"I am going to taste him from the inside out until there's nothing left of his mind but scrambled eggs."

Matt's breathing wouldn't quite make it down his lungs as the panic set in. Not able to move - Sylar so close he could feel his breath, looking at him like that - the finger coming up, and Matt was already bracing for the pain, the "no"s climbing out of his throat --

when the pain hit there was nothing he could do but scream. His skin split open by nothing, just the twisted will of this psychopath, and the blood dripping down the side of his face was warm and way, way too real.

Past that initial outburst though, Matt kept silent, or struggled to. He grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and thought desperately at Mohinder because he couldn't focus nearly long enough to catch Sylar's eyes and make him stop.

do something- you're okay, you're fine, you can take him- hurts- please- anything- Mohinder

Hearing Matt's internal screams was enough to get Mohinder to his hands and knees. He saved Peter the last time Sylar had him like this, hadn't he? There wasn't a giant rolling board to shove at the monster, but he could use something else-- The now-useless laptop computer, perhaps? All he needed was a distraction so that Matt could get control of the situation again.

He gritted his teeth and gasped in pain as he put weight on an ankle only to choke on the smell of ozone as Peter flashed between him and the two struggling at the wall.

Peter knew how to stop Sylar and pain, fresh from his family, left him harder than he'd thought he'd be. A come-here gesture at the knife block in the kitchen sent one into his hand and he drove it, deeply, into the back of Sylar's head.

The psychopath dropped, dead, at Peter's feet, blood pooling into the carpet. He did not go to Matt immediately, crouching instead to be sure he'd gotten the killer. Mohinder was left to tending the detective.

Fearing the worst when he pressed a towel to Matt's forehead, Mohinder parted the skin slightly to see how deep had been cut. He couldn't see bone. That was the biggest relief of all. Headwounds bled profusely however. It would take some time to stop.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject