seekevolution | Quarantine

Mobile in hand one moment, apple the next, Mohinder at least looked sufficiently cowed not to immediately jump up and retrieve his stolen device. He doubted Bennet would pick up once he saw his number and even if he did, his family was likely deeper in hiding than ever before. He didn't blame Noah for it. Mohinder might be the sort to ask all the wrong people for advice and show his hand (and heart) on his sleeve at the most inopportune of moments, but he admired the man's care of the people that needed him.

If only he could be a man like that one day.

Turning the apple over in his hand, thumbing the skin with a glint of the silver ring pressed heavily against his own, Mohinder dropped his knuckles to his thigh and blinked up at the larger man in dismay.

"I do trust you," Mohinder said, anger dissolving because he didn't have the strength any more. Anger might be easy, but it could take a great deal out of a person.

Mohinder didn't have anything else left to fuel it.

"Tell him what it is we need and why. He's bound to have seen the news by now. Claire's blood is special. He understand what that means."

Matt nodded, his own anger starting to die down as well now when Mohinder had given in. It was usually Mohinder's stubbornness that fueled his, after all. He breathed out, nodded, and took a few steps back, flipping Mohinder's phone up to scroll through his contact list. He didn't think there'd be any actual names in it, of course, that would have blown what little cover Mohinder had ever had, but 'B' was telling enough.

"Right", was his muttered agreement as he paused at the number, glancing at Mohinder and letting a beat pass before he spoke again. "Just eat the damn thing before you fall over. It ends in -49?"

Once he'd gotten confirmation, or found the right number, he got his own phone out and copied the sequence down. Because yeah, he didn't think Bennet would answer Mohinder's number either. How fortunate that almost everyone had their own phone these days, wasn't it?

Once he hit dial, he waited with a still-dark look Mohinder's way as the dial sounds went through, until there was a click and a cautious voice in his ear. He gestured briefly at Mohinder - got him - before he partially turned away, crossing his free arm over his chest.

"Bennet? It's Parkman."

The conversation felt like teeth were getting pulled, even though Mohinder wasn't part of it. He worked his jaw on the apple instead, face turned away from the man stuttering explanations towards the back of the room. The apple was warm and tasteless, not Matt's fault, and the feel of something fibrous in his stomach was starting to turn it ever so slightly. Exhaustion caught up quickly.

There was no need to be a telepath, nor hear the other end of the conversation, to know that Noah was giving Matt trouble. He glossed over the request and instead picked at the detective for information on who might have been hit, on what was being done--

Odessa had been home for a very long time, after all, even if Noah had kept his distance.

He sounded as tired as Mohinder looked. "There's been a media blackout since noon, Parkman," he said. Bad sign.

Bad sign indeed. Matt ground his teeth as he paced - he'd never been one of those people to take a call standing still, and he was circling himself slowly as he listened to Bennet and tried to get a word in edgewise. It wasn't that Bennet didn't listen to him, because he did; it was more that he seemed to have already made up his mind and refused to budge despite the arguments Matt put forth.

What aggravated Matt most, though, was that Bennet often spoke with a cool tone that held a lot of arrogance, and that tone carried over even through the tiredness that was blanketing all of them at this point.

"Yeah, that's bad, I get it", he hissed into the receiver, "but right now? We don't have time for this. No one has time for this. We need Claire's blood to save these people. If you won't listen to me, let me talk to her!"

That naturally didn't fly. Matt hadn't expected it to, but that didn't make him any less frustrated, and he shot Mohinder a look that said as much on his next rotation. The demand seemed to have made Bennet even more detached, and that was bad news too, but he was still on the line. So maybe they were still at a half-half.

There was another silence on Matt's end after that, before he finally snapped, "Just tell me what it's gonna be!"

Noah had no qualms with killing people. You couldn't work for the Company, you couldn't put your life on the line, and still have a high sense of fair morality. The sigh that followed painted a picture of the man removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "Then you have Suresh there." Not a question. Matt didn't need to answer. "Right. I'll bring it myself."

It was more than either of the two in the high school lab could have hoped for and it was better than Matt didn't get the chance to ask how, exactly, Bennet planned to get through a barricade if there was a media blackout before the CDC even arrived.

There would be double or even triple perimeters set up now. Evacuations would have ended. They were likely already trucking in additional military personnel to keep people in their homes or to enforce martial law.

Day one of a viral outbreak wasn't so terrible.

Day three? Day seven?

All hell would break loose.

Matt's posture told Mohinder the answer to his question when the other man hung up the phone. "He'll do it?" he asked, just to be sure, and relief filled him as he tilted his head forward to set his forehead on the back of one hand.

There was nothing more Mohinder could do until Claire's blood arrived except perhaps contact the hospitals away from the epicenter of Odessa's viral outbreak and walk them through testing for presence of the virus. Containment was all Mohinder could hope for until that precious blood arrived.

"Thank God."

"Yeah."

Matt rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, breathing out slowly. He was pretty good at going on the momentums he built up and he'd been going on determination, stubbornness and anger the past few hours ... it was only now he realized how tired he was. Seemed lengthy verbal spars would do that to you, two in a row even moreso.

He needed to find a charger, he realized. It was almost funny. The end of the world just around the corner and his phone was almost out of battery and it was a legitimate concern in case Bennet would call again.

Bennet had Mohinder's number. It was probably fine, for the time being. But still something to keep in mind when he'd be navigating the halls of coughing, scared or hurried people later.

"Catch", he said after a moment, tossing Mohinder's phone back to him in a gentle arc after pocketing his own. He found himself leaning against the desk after that, both hands flat against the surface. Listening. "You can't go to all of them", he commented, looking up. "You're even thinking tired."

With the apple half eaten to the core and nibbled on around the stem, laying lopsided on the desk, Mohinder couldn't help but wonder if he looked just as beaten up as the piece of fruit did. He let out a very long breath from the pit of his lungs and dropped his mobile into his jeans pockets when he stood. Likely, he couldn't get a hand into them otherwise while seated. He did seem to prefer trousers that might have been cut for a woman back in LA. Asian fashion was always a bit out there.

"How is it possible to think tired?" he asked, a smile on his face mirroring one from what seemed like so long ago, back before 'Suresh, Mohinder Suresh' became a thing to contend with and bicker over while Molly was in her room listening to Hannah Montana or rubbing her crayons into nubs on any piece of paper should could find. "Does it slur? Like speech?"

Right now, Mohinder couldn't do much at all. Matt was right. Even a phone call to one of the hospitals might be too much, getting through reception, to the right person, bounced around through any number of administrators-- He just wasn't up for it.

"Never mind. I believe you. I don't suppose there's a free sofa around..?"

The question did cause him to reflect, because he'd just noticed it, the thinking - he hadn't really considered what tipped him off. And that was them when they were good with each other, really: Mohinder making him think and being interested in something he did or said, and Matt able to provide insight and feeling like he was learning something about either himself or Mohinder (because by learning about his research, you invariably learned something about him, too). At their best, that exchange evolved into comfortable (and sometimes not-so-comfortable) teasing. At their best, they acted like a family.

God, he missed Molly so much. He wasn't sure how many days it had been since he'd seen her - probably only two, maybe three, but he felt like a very real part of him was missing. And now in the middle of all this he wasn't sure when he'd get to see her again.

But Mohinder was smiling at him and he smirked tiredly back at him. There was that, at least.

"Wouldn't bet on it. You might want to consider the floor, doc."

The sad part was that it looked like the most viable option. Any sofas were occupied or moved out of the way - more poeple than Mohinder needed the sleep, especially with the darkness outside. When had the whole thing started? Just before lunch time? The sun had set a while ago.

There had been many nights with a six pack of beer and American football on the television in the background (Mohinder couldn't figure the game out and in the end, simply pretended not to mind it so much when Matt needed the game to work through the pain of healing entirely too many bullet wounds) when discussions would turn towards Matt's blossoming ability and Mohinder would find himself going off on a verbal tangent stream of consciousness as he pondered the applications of telepathy in every day life. A little bit of alcohol and the professor still wouldn't shut up but at least he spoke slower and repeated himself quite a lot so Matt could keep up with the conversation. It had felt right to share his life with the two at that point, at least until Noah put it in his head that he'd best serve his little not-quite family by playing spy.

Conceivably, their lives could have been so very different if he'd only been capable of settling down. Perhaps, after this, they could bring Molly home together and try again? He'd even give Matt his bedroom in exchange for the couch if that's what it took!

Ah. A couch. Mohinder glanced around the lab and sighed. "It won't be the first time I've slept on the floor. I wonder if the administrator's office at least has carpeting though," he mused out loud. "You ought to rest too. I might not be able to hear your thoughts slur, but you look as exhausted as I feel. I'll give myself three hours, but you've been at this for almost a day longer than I have."

At least the apple seemed to allow his knees to function correctly this time.

He'd be able to see himself someplace at least a little more comfortable for a nap.

"It's not really slurring", Matt answered, wanting to sort it out now when he was thinking about it. "It's more, uh ... it's like a focus thing. Like your thoughts are less complete. They trail off, start over. You know?"

It was a figurative question, of course, since Mohinder wasn't a mind reader himself, something Matt was quite glad for at times. But it had turned into the question Matt used the most to make sure that Mohinder was following what he was trying to say. He'd been on the receiving end for quite a bit of questions after a while; it was naturally impossible to live with probably the only person in the world researching abilities to not ask him about them.

Molly was usually kept out of that kind of poking and prodding, but she was different. And with the way they were all trying to lie low Matt had quickly become one of Mohinder's very few test subjects. Matt usually didn't mind too much, and that's what he fell into now when he moved away from the desk and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, following Mohinder out the door.

It struck him that he could make people clear an area to let them sleep, if he wanted. It was a subtly scary thought, but it remained in his head.

"I'll live", he responded to what was likely underlying concern on Mohinder's part, but he'd barely said it before he had to stifle a yawn.

Missed this, comes unfiltered and unfocused, unconnected from the surface thoughts of Mohinder's brain, floating over probability and mathmatical equations on the likelihood of seeing everyone make it through this. Without knowledge that the original National Guard were now getting ill, even those who had not worn their masks for simply a moment, and were being replaced by soldiers in tough viral suits tightening down the border between the infection zone and the standby areas, this little nap was going to cost people lives.

Mohinder simply could not function any longer. A slip up could cause even more death. He wasn't really trained for this. He'd been interested in practical medical vaccine production as a student and then in human evolution post-graduate. None of those things provided the stalwart ability to look the dying in the eye and still study them.

He wasn't quite up to that point.

So falling back on conversation with Matt, sleepy and comfortable, about what he could do and how he could react to it was lulling and safe.

One of the side offices, lucky for them, was indeed carpeted and even had two plush chairs to steal the cushions from for pillows. As Matt had said, it wouldn't be comfortable, but Mohinder really had slept in worse places before. He moved through muscle memory alone, setting up a place for Matt first before he tosses himself into a corner, shoes placed carefully on a window ledge. Sleep. And then he'd call Molly as promised.

Matt had to smile a little at the stray thought, because yeah - he'd missed this, too. It was kind of bizarre when you really thought about it, how they'd had four months that had left them all alone, let them recover from the chaos that had been Kirby Plaza and all events leading up to it, and then now ... everything had happened so quickly and with such a degree of danger. Like the world regretted those four months altogether and had to roll all the missed opportunities for really bad things into a single strike and strike them hard.

He tried to calculate how long he'd been awake but the numbers were slipping away from him. He didn't think much about it when Mohinder motioned for him to lie down, cause that was another thing born from their moments of - well, it was friendship, he supposed, and he rubbed his face and lied down with an arm thrown over his face.

He made Mohinder promise to wake him the moment something changed. After that, he couldn't really stay awake anymore.

Things were getting more chaotic outside as they slept. It wasn't just about the disease spreading but the people trying to spread it, even without the intention. Throghout the morning there would be people trying to get out from the city: part of them not wanting to be contained or thinking the lockdown some kind of conspiracy, part of them because they had someplace to be.

The soldiers and National Guards could make do for now, citing whatever script it was they were trained to tell people in these situations, but like Mohinder had thought earlier - as the quarantine went on, it'd be more and more difficult. Riots might start. People would keep dying, not always because of the virus.

They'd likely hit triple digits before sunrise.

The thing about alarms, it turned out, was that one had to remember to set them in order to have them go off at a certain time. Mohinder had ever intention of doing so before sleep dragged him down and kept him there, pinned under glass, for nearly seven hours. In fact, it was to gunfire that the professor was roused, head aching from inconstant dreams and body unaccustomed to waking up prone on carpeting.

Hindi streamed from his mouth before his brain made the renewed effort to try again in English. Matt had to be awake, the man slept so slightly. He called his name, the glare of the sun coming through windowless curtains. "What was that?"

The shots sounded far off, towards the road, across the field of the high school. A couple with a dying child had tried to make a run for it. Soldiers, mostly just kids, panicked.

Mohinder had no idea what was happening, but there didn't seem to be a prolonged period of reaction. The early morning quieted down again.

Maybe it had been nothing at all? A weapons' misfire? Target practice? It just didn't sit well with him. But then, neither did the time.

Bennet could well be nearby already and Mohinder had slept through valuable minutes!

Yes, Matt had woken a bit earlier than Mohinder, roused from the sunlight teasing its way through the windows and the raised voices outside. The voices most of all, actually. At times he'd wake up from loud thinking the way you would from loud voices, and there was a combination there in the desperate pleading once the guns had entered the picture.

He didn't see what happened, but he heard the shots and cursed loudly, practically on his way out when Mohinder called for him.

"I don't know. I'm going to find out", was all he offered before he left, only then really registering the sunlight.

How long had they slept? Why hadn't anybody tried to wake them? It didn't sit well with him, like there might be something wrong even outside of the fact that there'd just been guns fired on the streets. Maybe the CDC had finally arrived and tried working things out. That would be the optimistic option.

He was on all kinds of edge when he moved through the corridors before he hit the streets and grabbed the closest Guard he could find, making him tell him exactly what he'd seen without a moment's hesitation, using his newfound power to get the information he wanted. When he got an incomplete image he forced another Guard too.

Matt wasn't happy about what he found out. No one had died but the father was badly hurt, but that wasn't the sole issue. Now people would view the situation as a bad one on a completely different level. Start opposing the people trying to protect them.

He whipped around and re-entered the high school, trying to find Peter. If he knew him right he hadn't allowed himself to sleep. He'd know more about what had gone down while him and Mohinder had been out.

Matt didn't have to find Peter at all. The younger man was already there, popping into view down the hall with a dangerous look on his face. Something was off about Petrelli, something Matt wasn't quite able to get out of him from the feedback his telepathy caused. Peter winced and paused, feet apart and hands at his side.

"It's the Company," Peter said, but that was mostly just an educated guess. "They're trapping the people in here, destroying roads--" Yes, he'd gone to look. He'd been a busy man in that early morning.

What else could he do with Nathan dead?

Mohinder appeared as a shadow behind Peter and one little gesture from the latter caused the professor to be pushed out of sight again. Peter didn't even bother to look sorry. "Help me, Matt. Help me before they start shooting at people, and not at the ground in front of people."

It was funny how quickly things could go so bad.

Matt didn't even reflect. It was all too easy to accept Peter's theory right away because it made far too much sense. Of course it'd be the Company, it was always the Company, and it'd be just their style to try to cover up the mess they'd caused by silencing anyone who could tell on them.

"Is Bennet here?" he asked Peter, already moving with him back outside.

"Bennet?" A puzzled look from Peter in return, but he didn't stop moving, leading the way with hurried steps. Matt kept up, not elaborating for the moment on why Bennet was on his way. That was answer enough that if he was there, he'd chosen not to announce himself.

Peter let it go, and Matt found himself speaking very quickly, trying to explain how to get to the point where you could push a thought, make people do what you wanted. It was difficult to explain but it'd work out one hell of a lot better if both of them could do it.

The main road into Odessa that Peter had blocked the previous day was ... not looking much like a road anymore, all torn up around the boulders. It looked like someone had tried to make dead sure that even if they could haul the boulders away from there the road would never be one you could travel on again. It was almost a rift in the ground. From the looks of the cars with the open doors it looked like several people had tried to get out that way. From the looks of the people slowly moving around the area, it was clear that they wouldn't.

In front of them were several official-looking people with guns, pointing them towards anyone who dared get close enough. Tension was running high, mixing with all the voices in the air. It looked bad, really bad, and Matt wished he had his gun. For now he had his mind. It would have to do.

He took a deep breath after a meaningful look Peter's way and tried to reach out to the anonymous looking people behind their masks even from this distance, trying to get to them before either side committed murder.

If it wasn't for Matt, Peter would say later, there would have been a lot of very, very dead people along the torn up road. Though one poor girl did have a violent, fever induced seizure, Peter was there to take care of her in her last moments of life and with Matt's prompts, the soldiers and the remaining, uninfected National Guard soldiers directed the near riot back to the quarantine zone.

By that point, the place looked very different. Tents had been erected in the former football field for the dead. Everyone showing symptoms were set up at at the high school. Primatech was under armed guard. The houses and businesses in between were all but barricaded from those hiding away from an airbourne illness that was just as likely to claim them inside as out with the way soldiers were insisting on banging on doors to get full blood work on everyone.

Mohinder was no where to be seen, already escorted back to his lab since someone told the commanding officer in charge that he had a way of identifying the infected. Mohinder had argued, of course, but there wasn't a lot to be done when under supervision like this.

It was worse than being at the Company, worse than being told to experiment on people with powers. Worse because he knew he was writing death warrants for each new group of individuals paraded through the lab for their blood to be drawn.

Red bracelets were issued to the infected.

White to those exposed.

There were still a whole stack of white bracelets laying in a pile on his desk and they were nearly out of red.

Matt and Peter remained outside for some time. Early morning went by quickly when you were trying to defuse any arguments you came across. There was more than one road into Odessa and even though it wasn't as bad as it had been on the highway with the others, there were still groups protesting against threatening soldiers on each of them. Matt made them all calm down. Made the officials handle it in a humane way and the people allow themselves to be herded back into the city. It was tiring him out and he'd gotten at least two nosebleeds by the time they headed back into the city, but that didn't seem important.

Peter looked bad in that obsessive way he had - too intense, too focused, forcing himself to forget about things by being as deep in the shit as he possibly could be. Matt took him aside and told him he was sorry about Nathan and suggested Peter get some actual sleep, something he'd nodded distantly at before he'd gone off again.

Matt wasn't surprised, but he'd been too tired himself to argue that any further.

Odessa started looking more and more like a ghost town. By lunch time there were only a few people out on the streets, scattered by the wind, looking uncertainly at the guards that held their posts. Matt moved around as he pleased, despite the lightheadedness that came with it.

They probably wouldn't have let him into Mohinder's lab if he hadn't made them. There were many more Guards now, demanding IDs and ranks, directing people - even the high school hallways were emptier. Most of the work was being done from the station at this point, where only the bigshots got to call the shots. With Nathan dead, there wasn't really anyone else to turn to but whoever the CDC and military had sent.

Matt didn't like it. He didn't even know who was in charge, but he was bent on distrust, and that likely showed when he entered the office-turned-makeshift-lab and only asked, "Did Bennet show yet?"

The look Mohinder gave to Matt seemed to ask if the telepath was picking the question from his mind or if he'd really been gone so long and not to help bring Noah and the blood in. A tray of half eaten food items was next to Mohinder's work station where he was furiously colouring white bracelets red with markets and very little self control. It was no one's fault, he blamed none of their either, but putting bracelets on child unable to remain conscious--

Mohinder's heart was breaking under the pressure of it all. He'd even taken three bites of the tuna sandwich they'd brought him before he realised it, that's how troubled he was.

Stomach sour, he sighed and sat back in his desk as the Guards informed him another set of people would be brought in within the hour. They were having some trouble with some of the residents within the main quarantine zone. Mohinder didn't even ask why, he just nodded, happy to be left alone with Matt for even just a little while.

"I've only given out thirteen white bracelets," he lamented, gaze down. "Three people died in front of me this morning. I told them that I would go to the sick-- No one listens. Everyone is so afraid. They're separating families."

Matt's expression softened when he took in the state of Mohinder. His eyes seemed a bit shinier than usual, from exhaustion or emotion or whatever, and the bits of his thoughts that Matt caught seemed slow, weighed down. Matt guessed from the same exhaustion. Maybe guilt. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Hey", he said, in a hoarse tone but a gentle inflection. "You're doing what you can. We all are. People are still alive out there."

The desk seemed to change angle slightly, when he looked at it. Slipping away a bit. He went to sit down on that stool from earlier, closing his eyes and resting his head in his hands.

"We almost had a riot", he said into his hands after what felt like a long moment, voice muffled from behind them. He wasn't sure if he should tell Mohinder or not. It seemed a bit unfair to let him know, but at the same time, it wasn't something he could exactly keep from him either.

"Understandable," Mohinder said and pushed his tray towards Matt. It wasn't as good as the presto-chango mobile-to-apple trick, but it was something. One small sign that Mohinder did care. Perhaps Matt wouldn't want a partially consumed tuna sandwich but there was a fruit cup and two different bags of crisps untouched as well as a packet of cheese on cheddar crackers the Indian had swiped one of earlier.

Setting down his marker, not bothering to bring up Noah again because his phone had been taken any way, Mohinder pressed his lips together and leveled an internalized 'voice' at his friend. instead.

They're taking people with white wrist bands off in an armoured car, he thought and while that shouldn't have made him smirk, the corners of his lips did turn up. I feel like I'm trying to argue with you after Molly's bed time.

The Indian sighed. "I'll tell you one thing, and this is just a theory....but only people with O-negative blood types seem to be immune. Again, the sample size is incredibly small-- And you, obviously, aren't O-negative. But it's strange. I don't have the equipment here to do further testing. I've been told that they let the CDC know. Wherever they are."

Actually, Matt was more than willing to go for a somewhat-eaten tuna sandwich. It wasn't like Mohinder was going to finish it anyway, and it was the most food-like thing available, so he reached for it as soon as it was offered to him. He was already chewing on it when Mohinder's thoughts reached him loud and clear, and he ducked his head just slightly, showing that he'd heard, closing his eyes for a moment.

There was a twitch of a smile at the mention of Molly. She was a spot of sunshine even when she wasn't there. But he didn't allow himself to linger on the mental picture of her smile.

He had to focus ... had only projected once or twice before, but tried again now: Can you give them red ones?

He wasn't sure how much of that would go through. He'd never done it with Mohinder before, had only seemed to do it subconsciously in times of stress, but it was clear that if they could have that discussion without saying the words, that would be miles better than trying to whisper about it.

He took another bite of the sandwich, chewed and swallowed as he opened his eyes and looked at Mohinder to find him speaking. Mouth-speaking. He hadn't caught the first part of what he was saying, but definitely enough to have an opinion.

"In some pretty office where they won't have to get their hands dirty", he said with an edge of sarcasm, or maybe bitterness. "Didn't you say we might not be? Immune?"

Hold on. Hold the phone. Whatever the saying was in English? Do that. Mohinder stared at Matt with big, brown doe eyes wide. He'd get to his conclusion in a moment, but at the end of his thought process, he realized Matt's mouth had been full of tuna fish and white bread.

He hadn't slurred. No flecks of fish dotted the desk.

You can-- When did you discover that?! Excited thoughts took precedence to red tags and white tags and immunity right now. He reached across the desk in fact in his shock and scientific joy, dark skinned hand against Matt's paler tone.

He generally curtailed the 'Asian' touchiness but this was important!

"I, uh --"

Matt blinked, a little ... surprised, to say the least, at the way Mohinder was staring at him. At the way he seemingly dropped all his other thoughts to focus that one, all his attention on him. Matt wasn't usually good with spotlight like that. And even if it was just the two of them, he made a face and looked away, taking another bite of the sandwich, moving his hand away from beneath Mohinder's to scratch at his neck.

Thing was, eating wasn't an acceptable stalling option anymore, was it?

Few days ago. My dad ... He shook his head and started eating the sandwich with a bit more aggression than was really needed. Guess I picked up a few things from him.

Well perfect. Was he suppose to send his congratulations or his condolences? Mohinder decided, and wisely for once, on neither as the option and sat back in a chair that luckily has some sort of support to catch him. He'd tried it once on the stool a few hours ago and...that hadn't gone over well save for the children in the room. Unfortunately for them, it had been red bracelets in the end and laughter gave way to worry as soldiers took them to makeshift classrooms outfitted to be sick wards.

Mohinder could almost hear them whimpering through the ducts. It was all in his imagination of course, but guilt had a way of personifying itself evilly like that.

Useful, he replied, never bothered by Matt's attempt at distance. Especially now. I'm sorry, what were you saying? Give potentially immune people red bands? Why would-- Hold on, hamster wheels turning. Oh. Actually...

"Help me colour these in."

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