Matt reflexively turned the gun on her when she spoke and that was a move he'd hate himself a little bit for for many, many years. But it only spoke all too clearly of what exactly a month in isolation had done to him. There was something very hard and guarded in his expression and something haunted deep in his eyes, in the way he for a moment looked at them like he didn't quite know them.

Yet when that expression started clearing it didn't leave him looking like his old self. It left him looking distantly unsure. But he was quick to raise his hand and put the gun away and stoop down to let his daughter approach him, and while it looked like she wanted nothing more than to fling herself around his neck like she had so many times before she went up thim carefully like she understood that he wasn't quite the same. Like she needed to check that out and be sure before she did anything.

He reached for her hands first and then slowly pulled her into a hug, but he felt distant. Unreal. Like he was moving through water. All his senses seemed blocked out when he looked up at Mohinder.

Mohinder. Blood on his face, tired eyes, stubble, messy hair. Looked the same, but not quite. Matt stared at him like he had to commit him to memory and he really, really was. He'd almost forgotten what he'd looked like. Had almost forgotten that quality Molly's voice had when she said his name.

And this was his family, and he didn't dare believe they were there, and he didn't understand why they were. He stroked a hand over Molly's hair.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Mohinder in a faraway tone, but his eyes never left his face.