seekevolution | The Storm

Sometimes during their short respite, Molly had woken and pushed her way between them. Mohinder didn't mind waking up to long blond hair in his mouth, not as much as he'd expected to. His alarm was much more annoying and he stretched, rolling over, to find the source of it and shut it off. Ten minutes until the end of their happy little existance, he realised, and turned back to find Matt gazing at him.

Do we stay here and wait it out? Matt might be his hero if he'd only answer yes. He wanted to just be done with it, if only for the shortest while. They could be together but--

But it was extremely unlikely indeed that it would happen all at once. Panic was likely already happening but it would take a day, perhaps more, for the height of the violence to really get under way.

And they were safe here. Safer here than anywhere else at least. Matt had them. What Mohinder's status as a scientist here couldn't do, Matt could protect them. Even Molly's skill could become invaluable along the way. But for right now, Mohinder wanted to hide.

Does it make me weak?

Don't think like that.

It might not have been the best reassurance but Matt didn't think it had to do with weakness. He realized that he'd never once actually thought of Mohinder as weak - rash and thoughtless, absolutely. But not weak. This had more to do with fear and although Matt usually supressed his own, he did know what it felt like.

He touched Molly's face lightly before he slowly disentangled himself from the little pile they'd made. There was something uncomfortable about one shoulder and he stretched in an effort to get rid of the kink, then yawned into one hand and picked up his gun which he'd put aside before lying down.

There were no real windows here but he waited for Mohinder to stand up too before he went back out into the lab.

Less people directly outside now. It made sense for people to change posts now - in anticipation. Matt was fully expecting it to build slowly. There was nothing of interest visible outside in the streets, still too early for most people to be up. The streetlights were on. It was odd to think that in a moment, they wouldn't be. Until sunrise everything would be dark.

It wasn't like watching the lights go out at dawn. They didn't blink off slowly in a line, romantic and preparing for the day. They turned off at once and most of the overhead lights did as well before the generators kicked on. There was likely a panic starting downstairs. Emergency lights were on, important systems were backed up, but for the most part, the switch off the grid was noticeable.

Televisions didn't work. Radios only played one emergency station message: Keep in your homes.

That wasn't something anyone wanted to hear.

Mohinder sat against the shallow sill, back to the cold glass, and watched Matt. It had started. It would only be a matter of time before shit when to hell and--

The door from the hall to his lab was pushed open by two large men and a woman, all wearing biohazard suits. "Doctor Suresh?"

Mohinder stood up slowly. "Yes..."

"You'll be coming with us to Atlanta."

Matt had turned to regard them with suspicion the moment they entered but at that demand he practically bristled. If he'd been an animal there would have been a low growl in his throat but right now, it settled in his face instead when he took a step forward.

"Why the hell for?"

I can make them go away. Just say the word.

He hated the idea of separation. He did, deeply. By the same token he knew it might be necessary, was practical-minded enough to see when to let something go, but that didn't mean he wouldn't put up a fight first.

Mohinder would go only if he wanted to go or said he had to, not because someone else said so.

"If case you haven't noticed, we have an uncontainable virus--" The woman stopped herself. "Just who are you anyway?" Mohinder was having none of this, however, and before Matt could answer (truthfully, snarkily), he stepped to the middle of the room.

"Are you talking abandonment of the city, doctor?" he asked, eyes red from the little sleep he'd gotten and the emotion before it.

There was an uncomfortable silence to follow. "The CDC is pulling out on governmental orders. You're our leading expert on this. We need you with us."

Mohinder immediately brightened. Abandonment of these people was not what he wanted.

And yet... "I'll need guaranteed passage for my family," he said, feeling as if he might be able to negotiate themselves some helicopter seats only to have the military make their presence known. It was wholly intimidating and meant to be too.

"We're sorry, Doctor Suresh, there's only enough room for you."

Matt had no patience for intimidation techniques. He knew them, had used several, and he was angry enough to completely disregard them. He tilted his head slightly, was lost in the focus for a second, and then the woman spoke up again.

"We'll give you a few minutes, Doctor."

"Great", Matt said sarcastically, and the group retreated out the door, waiting right outside. Too close for comfort but for the moment, distant enough.

Turning around, Matt went immediately closer to Mohinder, a hand to his shoulder.

"Okay, quick. How do we want to do this?" A short beat where he gestured vaguely between them and added, "If you go, Molly has to go with you." At least her. Matt could definitely manage in New York until the worst wore off if he had to, but they were a family now, all of them. That meant they had to make that decision together.

Preferably, they all went or they all stayed. But it would probably be one hell of a lot easier for someone to bring his daughter - because it was on paper now, she was theirs - than someone who had known issues with the Company.

Because oh, Matt was sure it was still them, pulling the strings.

Thinking on his feet had Mohinder at a disadvantage in some situations and this was one of them. Leaving Matt seemed utterly out of the question, but could they possibly leave Molly here? If they had any chance to get her away from this city, shouldn't they take it? Mohinder's mind raced as he pressed a hand to Matt's chest. A touchstone, of sorts, it seemed. Their physical connection always seemed to mirror their mental one.

If anyone could possibly do this, it would be Matt. He could survive, likely better than if he had to worry about Mohinder. But how could they meet up again? What if they blew up the tunnels? Destroyed the bridges?

Molly could find Matt anywhere but getting to him might be impossible.

"Can you have them leave one of their men behind and take you with instead?" The guilt pours over Mohinder before he even gets the words out. He'd have never suggested that half a year ago.

Maybe even two months ago. These things could change men.

Matt paused. "Yeah", he said slowly, looking at Mohinder, thinking about it. "Yeah, probably." But it presented a problem. If they were unwilling to take Molly, he could make them take her, but he wasn't sure if he could make them take them both. Wasn't sure if he could hold that kind of command up for extended periods of time. Wasn't sure if he'd manage to re-establish it when they touched ground in Atlanta.

And as much as he didn't like the military right now, he didn't think he could just sacrifice one of them for his own sake like that.

So he shook his head and sighed, squeezing Mohinder's shoulder a bit when he looked to the side.

"But I'm not sure. It'd be ... a lot. I don't want to risk it."

He hated saying that, but he had to be practical. He could handle New York, he was positive of this fact, but once the riots started Mohinder and Molly had a realistically much smaller change. He'd rather get them out than himself, if he had to choose. And if he moved himself into the equation he could very well endanger them.

Something decisive in him kicking in with that, he moved his hand away to his own pocket, checking his cell phone. No signal, naturally. They'd be completely cut off from each other other than Molly getting a glimpse of what was happening if she looked for him.

Matt wouldn't get any news. He accepted this grimly.

"I'll make them let you take Molly with you", he said, speaking quickly. "I don't think I could get us both on. She's easier to explain than me."

"Matt." Mohinder stared up at the larger man and shook his head. "Not without you." But the protest was ridiculous. Mohinder knew that Matt wasn't strong enough yet. Who knew how many people he would have to keep controlling, if any of them would be like the Haitian, or worse, like Bennet. Getting Molly out safe was the priority.

Should always be the priority.

It didn't mean that Mohinder had to like it though. His protests died when Molly came trudging out of the far back room, shoes already on and hair pulled back in a sloppy bun. "I'm ready," she told her parents. She had only heard part of the conversation but it was enough.

Enough to leave Mohinder's chest aching as he watched Matt scoop Molly up.

He was use to leaving the other two alone, not the other way around. To say that this was distressing was an understatement. Don't be reckless. Don't do anything to jeopardize yourself. Hide all of your supplies. Get in touch with Peter as soon as you can--

Matt was looking at him and Mohinder cleared his throat and glanced downward.

"Please." Just promise him.

Oh, Molly. She threw her arms around Matt's neck when he picked her up and he closed his eyes for a short moment to just hold her, the I love you immediately put into her head, a soft reminder that he hoped she'd never forget, no matter what happened. She nodded mutely against his shoulder and hugged him a little tighter.

When Mohinder thought at him, he looked him in the eyes as he stroked Molly's hair. He did listen. These were things he already knew, but he did listen even if he didn't say anything. It struck him how much of a family they really were and how much they all mattered to each other and when Mohinder looked away and his plea became verbal, Matt went up to him still with Molly in his arms, unfolded one and hugged him.

Molly followed suit. There was something melancholy about it, but it was a group hug they all needed. Just the moment of physical connection.

"I'll be fine", he assured them. "Just take care of each other for me, okay?"

There was something slightly hollow about that. It seemed emphasized when the CDC lady and her military buddies entered shortly after that and Matt let his family go to give them the mental order. He tried to root it deep, leaving no room for arguments or doubts. That'd come later, but never from these three.

There was a short moment of silence before she spoke. "Ready, Doctor? We got to go."

Hopefully, when that moment did come, it would be decided that the matter no longer made a difference. Molly was there already, it's not as if they could send her back. "I suppose so."

How long would they be gone? As Mohinder was ushered out, taking Molly by the hand, he looked over his shoulder at Matt and kept eye contact as he turned down the corridor. There's always too much to say and never the time to say it, he directed at the telepath. Be sure to stay safe so I can say it all the next time we meet.

Mohinder hardly needed to say it. He loved fast and hard and this was no exception. The last look he gave to Matt for the next few months was desperate with love. At least it would give Matt something to go on. Something to go for too.

A moment later and his family was gone.

Matt would be more or less left alone for a little while, though gear and research and samples would be taken from the room by young men and women in protective suits within half an hour. The CDC was pulling out. The sound of helicopters taking off from the roof in succession was proof of that.

After? It was just quiet. So long as Matt didn't dial in to the people dying below him.

He did, eventually. He couldn't ignore them this time when he went down the stairs and besides, sending calming notions to them left him with something to do. He already felt the loss of the other two settling somewhere in his ribs and he fought it with action.

It left him a little light headed, but it was all he could do for now. They were gone. No one were left to care for them except one or two hospital staff who were going to succumb to the virus soon anyway. On the off chance that someone there was immune, they still wouldn't be able to save everyone else.

It was a big hospital. Triple digits worth of people. He walked the halls with all his mental shields up and tried to radiate calm before he left. There was no way he was staying.

Find Peter, Mohinder had thought. Peter. He had no idea where he might be - last he heard, he did live on the island, but whether he'd be there at all ...

He shook his head and went to see if the closest bridge was still guarded. He felt both hidden and exposed in the darkness between the buildings, but he had a gun and his mind, so he was fine.

Military was still there. No surprise there. Matt half expected them to destroy the bridges at some point and leave them to fend for themselves - it wouldn't surprise him, given the way they'd torn up the roads in Texas.

His thoughts turned to Molly and Mohinder again when people started waking up, when voices were raised and the quiet broken. Would remember the way Mohinder had looked at him for a lifetime. He hadn't answered, hadn't been sure what to say, but he'd looked back. Nodded.

He knew that from now, it was a waiting game.

As the sun rose he went back to the car and moved it elsewhere, not wanting it that close to the hospital anymore, and after that? Well. He kept an eye on the main road off the island. People would try to leave and there'd be trouble, but no one should have to die.

It took two days before the riots started, a somewhat long stretch of time for the affected boroughs incidentally when little things like gas prices or a traffic accident had historically done so much, much more quickly. Stores and bodegas were bought out of the essentials by then. Trucks weren't coming. Police couldn't manage. A great deal of people were dead or dying.

Though the city's population had been reduced by half in that period of time, the living and the sick were twice as determined to escape the early summer heat from high rises fifty or sixty stories high. Without power, a great deal of the apartment dwellers of the city were also unable to make the climb back to their lofts and penthouses once they did descend to the street.

Once the military were attacked, face masks and protective suits ripped and torn into, Matt's effort to subdue the masses ended up being futile. He was caught in the crossfire, bullets sprayed in all directions. After one scraped his arm, however, he found himself from the middle of a refugee gooseneck to a dark alley several blocks away, a longer haired Peter Petrelli standing in front of him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry it took so long. Dreams a little hard to decipher, no matter what my mother says."

Matt almost stumbled because thinking you're one place and then suddenly being somewhere else is incredibly disorienting, and not at all easy to handle when you were feeling lightheaded yet again. But once he found his balance and the recognition hit there was a very, very brief smile.

"Right. Nice of you to show, Petrelli."

He ran a hand over his forehead, grimacing faintly, but clapped Peter on the shoulder a second later in an appreciative gesture. He didn't quite realize he was bleeding. Dull aches had quickly become something to get used to, and the bullet hadn't pierced through muscle. He wasn't paying it much mind.

Listening to the distant gunfire had his expression set pretty quickly, however. There was so much blood on everybody's hands - he hated it and the whole thing left a bitter taste in his mouth. That was admittedly eased by Peter's company already - gave him something new to hang onto, in a way. He'd felt lonely, cut off. Had probably gotten a bit more aggressive than he needed to be because of that.

"Do you know what's going on outside?"

A serious question and an answer he needed. New York was lost. Likely would remain so.

The smile on Peter's face immediately faded. He looked so much older with his lips pressed together like that, grim. He looked like his brother, really, a staunch reminder of one of their first casualties. "It's bad," Peter said. "But they have it contained so far. New York is the worst hit from what I can tell. Queens is all right, but Manhattan and Brooklyn and Long Island have all been sectioned off. They evacuated everyone else within a ten mile radius not separated by water."

Being able to teleport was definitely a plus during this particular trial and Peter had done the best he could with it in an attempt not to spread the virus on the off chance that he did carry it with him. Popping up in the middle of nowhere and hoping to steal Wi-fi was the best he could do, but it gave him enough news (or lack there of) to piece the rest together.

"They're calling it a terror attack, Matt. Biological warfare. Towns are closing themselves down and whatever hits the internet kinds goes crazy. Let me look at your arm."

"My-?"

Looking down, Matt saw the blood, the graze, and that's when the pain hit. Typically. He actually rolled his eyes but turned slightly to give Peter better access to do whatever it was he wanted to do. It stung. He'd live.

He was quiet for a moment as Peter looked at the wound and he planted his other hand against the brick wall behind him for added stability. Several blocks away, the gunfire was dying down. They'd have to check it out later.

So, the Company's lost control of the situation, he figured. It was a reasonable conclusion given how they wanted to operate in secret. But it wasn't a calming thought and Matt's mind was unhappy. He didn't like or trust the Company, but if the situation had turned as desperate as the impression he got ...

"What about the other places? Atlanta?"

Please let Atlanta be mostly fine.

"Atlanta? I don't know, man. I wouldn't go near any major city if I didn't have to." He had no idea that Mohinder and Molly were there. "Even the medium sized cities are probably hunkering down. Looked like the West Coast was doing all right but who knows." He didn't mean to be cold. Peter couldn't even manage that particular mindset for longer than a few minutes and the sigh proved it. "Your arm will be okay. It's already clotting on it's own. What happened to the old apartment? I went there to find Mohinder but all of the carpets were ripped out and the walls were painted over."

Peter, for one, would rather not go back and investigate where they'd just left. Seeing so many people dead was just weighing down on him. His nephews and their mother were safe, at least. Far away, up in Maine now at the family house. He'd made sure to stock it up before he left.

"And he wasn't at Isaac's either." C'mon Matt, tell Peter where he can find their only hope.

Or so he thinks. Truthfully, Mohinder doesn't believe he has the answer...just the ability to save those not yet infected.

"Yeah, that's why I asked." Matt pulled his sleeve down over the cut with a huff of air, finding a sudden reluctance to say it out loud. Talk about solidifying the uncertainty. He didn't want to, but he said it anyway. "He's, uh - last I heard, that's where him and Molly are. Atlanta."

He wound up saying it with a lot more bitterness than intended, but you know what? He kind of was. And if that made him spit the name out, so be it. He looked darkly at Peter for a moment but then he made to move away from the alley, back towards the street. Seemed deserted in this area of town. Peter had picked a good spot.

"The CDC", and he drew the initials out a bit in a way that almost sounded sarcastic because nope, he didn't feel particularly friendly to them either, "decided that they needed him here. Chopper picked them up. That's two days ago."

It's for their own good, he reminded himself, pulling the gun from his belt to check how many bullets he had on him. He hadn't fired many shots the last few days and hadn't had an opportunity to hurt anyone before Peter grabbed him and took him from the chaos just now, but he made sure to check over the weapon every now and then regardless. You quickly learnt with all the chaos around you.

"Oh. Oh." Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and wet his lips, head bobbing a little bit like a chicken. "Good. Actually, really good. They'll have the best minds there. He'll be fine there. Okay, so now we just have to wait, right?" Wait and not get killed.

Peter was pretty sure he couldn't be these days but Matt was another story. The pair locked eyes for a moment after Matt finished going through his weapon checklist. They shouldn't need that, if Peter was quick and careful enough. A little telekinesis could go a very long way.

"Where are you staying? My old apartment--" Filled with broken mirrors, with pictures of himself, with Nathan's discarded liquor bottles. "--is easy to get to. Sixth floor. It might be safer there."

The sound of two pop-pops from gunfire a block or two away made Peter frown. Small firearms. Not military.

He'd seen people kill each other over a gallon of milk just yesterday. It was not a good time to be a New Yorker.

They shouldn't need the gun, no, but it made Matt feel better to have, especially if he'd wind up on his own again. His power was not naturally offensive. He'd been considering this some, lately - his power was mostly about understanding and manipulation. That's what he'd concluded. And that manipulation that he'd been incredibly uncertain about a few days prior was quickly becoming an asset and a tool, and although he hadn't been outright cruel to anyone he was starting to see how he could be.

But unlike several of Peter's amassed abilities, telepathy still wasn't ... a weapon, not in the bluntest sense of the word. It was about ideas and having them take effect. Granted, those ideas might be anything, but in a tight spot it wouldn't be nearly as effective as electrocuting someone or flinging them away with your mind.

Matt paused for a moment at the shots, ten took a left turn as opposed to a right.

"We got a new place after you got rid of Sylar", he said. "Too many ... memories, I guess. It's not far. Third floor. I've got supplies." He thought briefly about Mohinder, the hurried way he'd written down that note, the concern but not-yet-fear in his eyes when he'd sent him to fetch Molly. He put the gun back in his belt.

It was the most reasonable choice, but Peter was free to discuss pros and cons if he wanted to. That said, that's where Matt was instinctively headed.

It went as Mohinder had predicted. Day two, riots. They were in full swing with people collapsing and either dying right off or being trampled in the street. Day three, there was silence in much of Brookly, where Matt and Peter were. They were the only two in the entire apartment complex, all four floors empty, or perhaps filled with people that had gotten sick.

Peter was unable to sit still on that third morning, teleporting to hospitals, fire departments, churches-- He just wanted to find people. What he found instead were people shooting at him from high rises or so much military activity that he had to hide or risk being detained.

He came back with probably questionable food from a mostly looted McDonald's just after noon and found Matt in the back room. "You're going to pace holes in the floor," he mentioned and dropped the burgers, cooked in a microwave at a generator-powered hospital's break room on the counter. "Listen, neither one of us are good at waiting, right? And there's a lot of people stuck in the top floors of the buildings here that aren't infected. I think we should do what we do best, Matt. Let's go help these people. Bring them food. Water. You know-- Stuff the military doesn't care about."

It's either that or he knows Matt is going to stew in here, worried about Molly.

Worried, yes. Worried even more since he was trying not to think about it. But it was in that silence those thoughts and feelings were the loudest, and he hadn't realized he was pacing again until Peter appeared and pointed it out.

Well, at least he was getting used to the younger man appearing and disappearing the way he did. He ran a hand through his hair, made a noise that probably sounded like "Yeah", and after eating some they were more or less on their way.

There was the notion of what if they were carriers - but Matt dismissed it pretty quickly. No one was likely to come back for survivors for days, and during that time those people would get infected anyway. If him and Peter weren't contagious they had a chance to help.

Almost all the stores were looted, but not all very thoroughly, and scavenging for some additional canned goods and bottles of water took a while. Neither of them complained since it was something to do that had a goal in sight.

Still, the sun was on its way down when they set out. Matt had given Peter one of the flashlights for later. Most of loot was in the apartment - it was too risky to carry around with so many people desperate for it - but Peter could teleport back and forth for it as they went. Having an intensely superpowered friend had its advantages.

Cause yeah, Matt would probably count Peter among his friends by then.

They'd worked themselves up to the tenth floor of the first building they chose to enter when they had their first real encounter with someone else, having managed to stay below the radar for the most part, and it was a tense one.

Matt reached out, pulled Peter back. "There's someone here", he whispered, motioning for him to stay quiet, and they both heard the fractured thinking further down the hall. Who's there, go away, I'll kill you, fucking conspiracy--

Telepathy was not a power Peter used often. Trying to tap into Matt's feelings when he used it were more confusing than Sylar's when he accessed his telekinesis ability. Besides, they crossed streams too often when they did and the feedback could cause nosebleeds. Peter wasn't fond of it and he knew that Matt wasn't either.

Picking their way through empty...or not so empty...apartments wasn't exactly one of the highlights of the day. Peter knew better than to try and bury the dead this time. Reconstruction from this disaster was a national effort. He just didn't have the time to do it, no matter how much he'd like to keep these people from rotting in air conditionless studios and one bedrooms.

They came across some goods in those places, too. Toilet paper, water, packages of cereal not yet opened--

Peter didn't really think he was infected any how as he followed Matt up the stairs. Going down was going to be so much simpler. They could teleport after all! He'd been reading up on it. Airbourne viruses lived in the lungs but if the virus couldn't latch onto cells and replicate, there was very small chance they could pass it on.

Besides. If they just left supplies in the hall, everything would be all right.

Or that was the though, at least, before Matt stopped him.

Peter scanned the walls with his eyes and nodded. Yeah, he heard a voice too. Mental disconnects. Parsing issues. Fear. "I'll go." What's the worst that could happen? Peter held a bottle of water in one hand and the other lifted as he rounded the corner. He didn't even get a word out before he was shot in the center of his chest with a shotgun.

This wasn't a good start.

Matt reacted immediately and on instinct. Drawing his own gun, he stepped out from behind the wall, took aim and yelled "Drop your weapon!" at the young woman who was staring at Peter, flat on his back in a pool of blood.

She shivered for a moment before she aimed the shotgun at Matt, who reached out to her mentally. She was scared, he could tell even without reading her mind; it was evident in the wide eyes, the pale face, the slight shaking in her hands. Matt didn't dare look at Peter despite his own racing thoughts. For a moment, he'd forgotten that Peter could heal. That he'd be okay.

For a moment, he was seriously ready to shoot down a twenty-something girl who had maybe three other names in her head, people she was trying to protect. She'd killed Peter. But he didn't get to think about that.

"Who are you?" she demanded, loudly. "Go away!"

Matt grit his teeth. "We're- we're just trying to help, alright? What's your name?"

Kayleigh. She didn't say it out loud.

"You want to help us help out? Huh?" He had that voice - trying to talk someone down, urgent but soothing, reasoning. Despite not really feeling those things, he'd done this a few times and the tone came naturally. She gave him a wary look and he slowly opened his hands up so that he was no longer aiming at her. "Want to tell us how many else are in here? We just want to help. I promise. We don't want anybody to get hurt."

She looked down again at Peter, looking scared and torn, and then she let out a small scream when the buckshots were spat out of his skin.

Dying didn't hurt as much as coming back did. Sucking in that first breath was like being dragged over hot coals, singing his very bones. It was over in an instant, however, and Peter put his hand to his bloody t-shirt, giving the woman and then Matt a somewhat sheepish grin as he sat up. "Sorry, my fault," he groaned, as the gun barrels were shoved against his face.

"Get down! What is this!?" There were other, more choice words in her head. Peter wasn't about ready to find out what they were and Matt probably wasn't surprised anymore than young ladies could talk that way...even if Molly might get her mouth washed out with soap if she ever tried.

"I'm wearing a vest," Peter lied poorly. "Ugh, that hurt." There was truth to that at least! "I'm going to get up, all right? I have a backpack filled with food you can take to your friends--"

"You're trying to kill us!" she screached and Peter looked back at Matt one more time as if to ask the larger man to take care of the mess before she alerted anyone else.

Of course, that was too late. The others, just one floor up, were already on the stairwell headed their direction, alerted by the shell fired. Peter frowned. He really didn't want to have to teleport them to safety. These people needed their help.

"Matt--"

A few thoughts did finally hit him and Peter flinched in surprise. Capture. Keep. Could people fall so hard, so fast?

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