Scared. That's just how Mohinder looked when Matt came to him, blood fresh on his throat and hair torn, a bruise forming on an already dark jawline. Mohinder's eyes didn't lift towards Matt but towards the man that had been still quivering when Matt dropped him, just his foot twitching back and forth until that too was stopped. Mohinder swallowed, the action sending one small rivet of blood to his collar. He needed to stop wearing such pale shirts. They dirtied so quickly.

Mohinder shook when Matt touched him, his own hand lifting to set on the pale, bearded cheek of the man in front of him. You killed him. Just like that. No weapon, just thoughts. How was that possible? An overload of senses? A command to die? Could a man be commanded like that?

So many questions. So many.

Mohinder's mind rattled them off like the alphabet, a steam of consciousness for things he could never ask. Scared, horrified, proud, relieved, curious-- His feelings were impossible to sort out as he wrapped his arms around Matt's neck.

He'd seen so much death...why did this one bother him so much? Why did it make something stir in his belly? Had Molly not been watching, Mohinder might have reached for Matt's belt and insisted to be had, right there on the hood of a damaged and beaten in car.

"Molly--!"