seekevolution | The Storm

The Storm

"Mohinder! Mohinder! It's too much!" the little girl protested from her bedroom after one of her adoptive fathers (paper work having gone through thanks to Matt's singular talent) nearly tackled her to rub sunscreen into her fair skin. "I can't breathe! It's in my nose!"

Mohinder more or less ignored her cries, rubbing more of the white cream into the areas behind her ears. "You'll thank me when you're not a lobster tomorrow."

"But we're wasting time! Matt's already pulled up the car and packed it!" She might be young, but that didn't mean she wasn't already imagining herself like the girls on the Disney Channel with tanned skin and sun-bleached hair. It'd started with lipstick and red nail polish and a two piece bathing suit he'd given into only because he's force her to wear a little jacket when not in the water. And a hat.

"He'll wait for us," Mohinder said as he clucked his tongue, dressed in white shorts and an orange collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, though left open with his chest bare beneath. He had on a pair of sandals too, certainly looking ready for the beach. If only Molly would cooperate!

"And if he doesn't?"

"We'll think of a proper punishment. All right, there you are, bring a change of shoes in case the car gets too cold on the drive."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Shut- Ssh!"

Grabbing Peter hurriedly by the arm to get his message across, he found he was smearing the younger man's own blood over the thin, torn up jacket he wore. It was all over Matt's hands and he'd been kneeling in it too. It would be alarming with that much blood on him except ... yeah. They'd done this a lot of times before. And while Matt would never get used to pulling items out of his friend he'd grown far too accustomed to the sight of his blood and injuries.

He'd hissed the request between his teeth and when Peter fell silent he moved his head to the side, listening. For anything. Sounds or intentions. It took him a lot of effort and strain to get sounds past the shrill and it didn't make his headache feel any better, but they both knew they had to pay close attention. When he caught something he looked up at Peter and only gave a brief nod to their right - their conversations had grown shorter and shorter after all this time, at least in these situations.

Peter would get it: got to move.

Of course, moving swiftly when you were suddenly aware of the pain shooting up your side wasn't very easy, and something caught slightly in Matt's breathing when he followed his friend. Peter would be a lot faster, but it wasn't all about speed.

And when they did move to get out of there the rest of the bomber group spotted them and gave chase. Not all of them, some of them stayed behind, but enough of them started running up to them with the intention of teaching them a lesson.

Others circled the area. Matt could hear them, keeping distance for now but fully intent on seeing what they could get in the commotion they all expected.

Where were their things? Third floor? Matt didn't think too much of the building had fallen in and he thought their particular area would be okay. The question was if they wanted to risk going there to grab their things or not.

The only feasible way they'd manage that would be with teleportation.

But that would also expose them and make them even more of a target in the future.

Matt grabbed Peter by the arm again and voiced this as quickly as he could, mentally projecting to fill in the gaps, all the while looking around for an opening. It was a good thing most people had abandoned ranged weapons a while ago. Thre weren't any new bullets to be found after they were fired, after all, and this bought them a moment to think.

But only a moment.

There didn't have to be an opening when Peter was strong enough to make one. He half-flew, half-jumped to a small landing made in the rubble and pried open a fire door still left standing. Unlike Nathan, Peter could easily carry Parkman, his ability to use multiple powers giving him an edge despite his diminutive size. He was even smaller than Mohinder, after all. Not by much, perhaps, and time in Ireland and at the research facility with Elle lent him time to muscle up, but he still looked waifish in such ill fitting, torn, and bloodied clothing.

Those in pursuit would arrive just in time to see the door shut and it would take them a few minutes to scramble up the rubble. It bought them enough time to teleport to the third floor for their goods, but taking everything would be impossible.

"Just the water," Peter whispered. That, more than anything else, was high priority. Anything running from the taps now was brown since the treatment plants had stopped working. Below, he could hear people yelling and cursing. They were fast. Resourceful.

And as much as Peter wanted to be a hero, he was getting really sick of it too.

"Hurry!"

At least the cover gave the others a pretense not to think that he and his friend had teleported away seconds before they broke into their hideaway. Besides, they were much too happy to find a cache of good to really be bothered by remembering to give chase to the other two.

Yeah, water. The hunger wasn't anywhere near as bad as the thirst, sometimes, and with the way everything was dwindling it wouldn't be long before they'd start suffering from dehydration. How good would they be even with abilities if their bodies were shutting down?

It hurt Matt a lot to admit defeat for that reason, because it was another small nail in their coffin. If things didn't change soon there really wouldn't be much hope for them unless Peter teleported them directly into a medical facility that still worked, and in that case ... it might just start all over again.

They reappeared in the loft. They'd managed to grab almost all the water, which still wasn't all that much, but enough to get by for a few more days. They still had some canned goods and dry foods, but all in all ... yeah.

There was something ironic about the loft and the explosion painted in the center of the floor. They'd avoided that future. They'd saved New York. But only to have it lost to something far worse.

Matt sat down and let Peter look at him with the verdict of sprains, nothing too serious but things that could be, and things that hurt at that. Matt spent some time after that trying to convince Peter to eat something despite the other's hesitance to.

They took turns sleeping, just to be sure.

There was another explosion early morning the next day, but it was far away.

By nightfall after that there was a fire in Central Park.

Tears that had not come yesterday morning, even when he'd finished singing Molly to sleep and crawled into his own bed near by, came that morning. Mohinder rushed to the bathroom and put a folded towel over his mouth to soak up the horrible sobbing that sent shudders through his spine. He didn't know what had happened or why, just that Matt had been fine at breakfast and gone before dinner came.

Mohinder cried until there were no more tears and he was left sobbing pitifully with voice alone and then rocking when even that failed him. His throat closed itself off and any song he might have gone to wake Molly with did not come.

He let her sleep, put an apple and a juice box by her bed, and went to the lab. No one asked him what was wrong when he snapped at them to run the simulations again, to test their control group of monkeys and to get him a latte.

He threw himself into his work so completely that he didn't realise his daughter had arrived, mask in place, to tug at his sleeve for nearly a full minute. "Molly," he said, voice still raw, "sweetheart." Matt's name for her. Stupid. "This isn't the place for you." She held up her atlas instead, grin covered by the mask but her eyes shone bright blue through the goggles.

Mohinder didn't understand but when someone called his name, excited, about a result from a test no doubt, he shushed her. Molly came first. Molly was all he had left.

"I don't--"

The girl dropped the book into his lap and flipped towards New York. The pushpin in her hand flashed as she closed her eyes and then sank down in Manhattan. Isaac's loft. "Found him."

Perhaps he ought to have spoken to someone about leaving. Perhaps he should have left Molly behind, or taken more than a few days worth of food and water with him. Perhaps there were smarter things to do than drag an eleven year old girl across the George Washington Bridge, Pinehearst ID gaining him access through the garrison of scared young men and women stationed there, towards a war torn city.

Alas.

Mohinder was never one for thinking on his feet.

At least he was a former cabby. He knew the best way to get the lab, the quickest. If only he could have gotten there completely unscathed.

The good thing about a car was that it moved quickly and could carry several things. The bad thing about cars was that they usually needed roads. There wasn't a lot of room to navigate the main ones given the amount of cars abandoned on the streets from people trying to get out of the city, nor a lot of room left from the broken cars and rubble that graced the roads like grotesque works of art. Reminders of how New York had turned into such a ghost town all too quickly.

It wasn't hopeless, but they'd have to walk some of the way. And that was risky because of the agitated people in the area. The eerie silence likely had them quiet on instinct, and they'd still have the images from the video in their minds, but New York was nothing if not a living risk in itself at this point.

Matt and Peter were discussing whether or not to investigate that other bomb. Matt was mostly against, Peter was mostly for, and they were both too tired to actually discuss it with the depth they would have even just a week prior.

"Fine, check it out", Matt said at some point. "Be back before sunset. I want to keep us moving."

How many places did they have now? The loft, the apartment, Peter's apartment, and their newest and least stocked and most vulnerable spot was a corner coffee shop in a distant edge of town. Four places wasn't bad but after the bomb they were better safe than sorry.

They had the advantage of not having to set foot on the streets at all but on the off chance that someone was watching the buildings it'd be good to not have too much movement at the same place for too long.

But all that meant that Matt was alone when he first heard something. He kicked into action immediately and backed into the room, the shadows, where he could see both the door and the windows and not be easily seen himself. Raised his gun to aim at the door, head tilted slightly to try to catch the mental fingerprint of whoever was coming. He had to defend this place. That's all he was thinking at first.

There was skin under his fingernails, mixed with blood. Mohinder had never fought like that before, had never used his hands like claws against the face of another. He'd always been more of a pacifist, minus a few small occasions where violence had been needed to protect innocent people from more dangerous ones. Matt and Sylar both understood that about him.

And now, so too did a man in his late thirties with a dirty beard and one ruined eye they'd left back about a mile behind them. He'd gone for Molly, said lewd and horrible things-- Mohinder still didn't really remember what happened. Molly had pulled him away in the end and together, they'd kept walking towards the loft.

Both were silent now. The triumphant feeling they'd shared when their rescue mission had first been hatched had diminished slowly the moment they'd seen the city and had not kept from falling further each new block conquered.

People were dead in the streets, no matter how many Peter and Matt had cleared. Many had been riddled with bullets. Keeping Molly from seeing them had been impossible.

At least around the loft, death had more or less left them alone.

Mohinder held out his hand to help the girl up the stairs and moved towards the poorly barricaded door. He stepped out into the open, his mind a sort of dim haze. No one here, he kept repeating to himself. Oh God, what did I bring her to? The thought of going anywhere else to find Matt was terrifying.

Mohinder pushed open the door, blood speckled on his face, and blinked at the gun pointed at him. And at the man doing the pointing.

It wasn't Mohinder that spoke first, but Molly: "Matt!"

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.

Matt's eyes on him caused the blood to turn from splatter to streams down Mohinder's cheeks as he stood in the doorway, satchel over one shoulder, the sleeve of his light weight coat nearly pulled off. There was something wild about the Indian, as wild as Matt was closed off and tired. They both looked different enough to be foreign to the other and yet still the same, just underneath the grime of separation.

Molly took a step aside from Matt when he stood again, grinning sweetly as she looked from one parent to the other.

It took a moment, but Mohinder did manage to speak. "You were lost," he said, eyebrows evening out and jaw set, turned upwards slightly as if in defiance. He moved slowly towards the three steps down into the main work area, where his lab was still set up but no longer in reasonable working order. He didn't let his gaze linger from the detective's. "We couldn't find you." He stopped at the bottom landing, chest heaving and voice straining. "And then...you were alive again."

Mohinder's lips trembled.

"And I--" He almost couldn't see, fat tears blinding him. "And I couldn't bear another day without you."

Matt wasn't sure what that meant at first. He hadn't died, had he? Peter had insisted on always going first into a risky situation and had died so many times from that, but it had spared Matt's life. Always. He'd gotten hurt, but he hadn't ... except yesterday. He'd been unconscious yesterday.

It had taken them less than a day to get here because they thought he'd died.

He approached Mohinder slowly, not saying anything, not knowing what to say at all. But he lifted his hands to his face, touch careful against the darker skin like he still couldn't believe this, needed to make sure, make it real that he was there just from his thumbs against his cheeks. He looked between his eyes and took in the tears and the new ferocity behind them and it made him breathless to see so close, all of it, the deep brown. He swallowed and moved forwards and hugged an arm around Mohinder's torso.

"Molly", he said against Mohinder's shoulder, and she took the hand he held out for her.

He stood like that for a moment. Tears were far, far away from him and so were any kind of words, but the stunned silence said more than he could have managed anyway.

Tears turned to laughter and Mohinder's arms tightened around Matt too, afraid to let go ever again. With Molly beside them, they were a family once more and a family they were simply going to have to remain from here on out. Mohinder's mind buzzed lightly with praise to gods he did not believe in and foolish belief that everything would be all right again.

Molly was all a chatter, speaking too fast as if the words she'd been holding back for two weeks now were just too much for the tip of her tongue. They all spilled out together in a jumble of scientific mumbo jumbo and the state of her dear elephant, who had been in the back of Matt's car. Yes, she wanted to know where it was, but said it was all right if he had to leave it. A girl could hope. It was the first purely childish thing she'd asked for since this second outbreak started and Mohinder was beyond thrilled to listen to it, even if he knew she'd be ultimately disappointed with the answer.

Matt could not have been moving around with a giant stuffed elephant.

After a little while, Molly excused herself to use the bathroom, the toilets still flushing but the water not exactly clean nor odourless when it filled the bowl. Perhaps it was selfish of Mohinder to be glad for a few stolen moments alone with Matt, but selfish or not, he pulled back slightly once the door to the back room was shut and touched a hand to the taller man's cheek.

"I can't leave you be," he whispered. "The moment I do, you forget how to eat properly." Yes, he was trying to make light of it. Mohinder's voice cracked at the end, but his smile was bright.

No, Matt hadn't driven around with a stuffed elephant in the car. He'd taken it back up to their apartment the moment it had become clear that he wouldn't get to leave and that he'd need the space in the trunk for additional things. It was still there, to his knowledge. And he told her as much and hugged her and kissed her hair and let her go with his mind reached out for hers. Just in case.

When he stood and found Mohinder's fingers on his cheek something shifted again in his expression. It lightened, a little, but at the same time something incredibly sad flickered over his gaze.

He didn't manage to smile back yet. He hadn't smiled properly for weeks.

He hadn't kissed anyone for weeks, either. But he did now, rather suddenly and with a surprisingly desperate edge, like maybe he'd meant to respond with words but instead did with his lips. He had a hand in Mohinder's hair and the other somewhere near his jaw and he'd actually grabbed him and was now kissing him like it was the only answer he had to the unspoken question he thought he'd heard in Mohinder's voice.

He couldn't make sense of his own thoughts. So he ignored them and focused on the lips pressed against his own.

And what are thoughts, what are words, when you could have this? Mohinder didn't even try to hold on. There was no sweet waif waiting to be touched, waiting to tremble under a hand or a mouth. He was strong in his own right, not just of intellect, but resilience too.

He could be a warrior. He'd proved it, hadn't he? Perhaps not by weapon, but through a trial of fire and heartache. He'd won, too. Look at what he'd won!

Mohinder kissed Matt back fiercely, possessively. The beat of his heart in his ears was like the beat of a song that filled him. Tribal. Needy. He sucked in a breath just after Matt did, arching upwards into the detective until something hit the floor somewhere to the left and the sound of a giggle followed.

"Um-- Sorry. Just-- Found some extra water in an office cooler and-- Hey Mohinder," Peter said, heading over to Molly to take her by the hand. "Uh, I like your braid--"

Well, the secret was out. Mohinder would be more embarrassed if he could stop laughing, likely, a good sort of sound, the sound that meant things might be better again soon.

Matt liked that, the very real, very strong presence Mohinder presented when he touched him and kissed him back. It grounded him in a way few things had up until that point, let him focus on something different than survival or pain or thirst. If there was thirst now it was of an entirely different kind and Matt pressed against Mohinder in a way that met the arc of Mohinder's body like a compliment, fitting them together just so.

Matt was so far beyond caring about consequences for this. Who knew, who didn't know, who thought what, who gave a shit? The world was falling down around them. He could kiss his partner if he liked.

It's not like Molly and Peter hadn't suspected, anyway.

Withdrawing from Mohinder but keeping a hand to his back, he turned to Peter, all business in tone and voice. No, he still didn't feel like he could laugh, either. But he felt more alive and that was something. "So it was the office building?" He waited for the nod. "Is there anyone left?"

And as happy as he was to have Molly and Mohinder with him, he knew that now that they were here, they were at risk.

If Matt wanted to keep hold of him, Mohinder would let him. A month apart, each doing duties neither wanted, was enough to let the geneticist relax in his emotions. They were heated. There would be more time for heat later. At the moment, a hand to Matt's chest sufficed.

Peter turned dark eyes towards the elder of their new little group, doubled in size, and shook his head. "No. But there were a dozen in Central Park." At the fire. The look on his face was meant to tell Matt that they hadn't been the cause of the explosion, they'd been victims. "Lord Crazy--" It was what they knew the most violent leader of the largest group in Manhattan by, "had a little shower of strength. Two were just kids."

It killed him to do nothing. Matt could probably see the fire at that.

"I can take them. Alone. I can put them where they won't hurt anyone else." He'd done it to Sylar. Why not this group? And yet... He still gave heed to Matt, even now. Peter was stronger by far, but Matt had become a substitute older brother and Peter latched right onto that role.

Mohinder finally stood back and frowned.

For once, he kept his mouth shut.

Bad day to visit New York?"

Matt ran his hand up Mohinder's back before he moved away as well. Not much, but more at an angle so that he'd be able to see each of them. He had half a thought of sending Molly away, but he knew she'd had seen the destruction of the city and all that came with it. Knew the faint drops of blood on Mohinder's face weren't his own. Knew they all had to be honest and upfront with each other if this was going to work.

"They're people", he said tiredly. "Most of them still are. We can't kill all of them, Peter. If we're gonna take down any of them ... it has to be the leaders."

Kill. That's the kind of thing they really were discussing, wasn't it? It's what everyone else were too. The entire world was watching and taking bets on when they'd all be dead.

It would have been ideal if they could hold them somewhere. But holding anyone anywhere now was a death sentence in itself. Matt hated it because it meant any action now was a cruel one.

"Look, we only know two of them. If we take them out someone else is going to step up. For better or worse. We'd have to monitor them and we're barely holding our own right now. Maybe if we could trap them somehow ... lock the city into sections ..."

They'd discussed that loosely some time ago but had agreed that it'd take too much effort not to mention reveal their powers, but he brought it up again because he wasn't sure about the rest of the options.

Mohinder was a little shocked that it had come to this. He'd seen the riots in Atlanta, watched them in cities across the country on the news. He still, for the life of him, could not see people as the enemy. Stepping into the discussion, Mohinder moved physically between the other two men.

"There's no need. No need for any of this. The inoculation is nearly finished. Before I left, it was going for human testing. In less than a week, it will go into production. In a month, the country will have it--" If anyone was alive in a month. They were all killing each other, whoever the outbreak virus didn't mow down. "We have a place to go. When Atlanta fell, we were taken to Pinehearst, a genetics laboratory right across the bridge. We don't have to stay here."

But Peter felt like being in a belligerent mood. "And what about everyone else, Mohinder? Do we just leave them to these monsters?"

"If there's hope, the violence will stop!" Mohinder said back, raising his voice. He honestly didn't realise, sometimes, how naive he came across.

Matt shook his head and put a hand to Mohinder's arm. A grip, not just a touch. His eyes were dark. Much too serious. "Do you really think these people have any hope left? You saw what's out there. That's one month. I'm not sure people will last another one."

He didn't really dare hope himself, despite Mohinder outright saying that a solution was coming. When you'd seen too much death and destruction you stopped seeing anything else. Matt wanted to kiss Mohinder again partially because of that. He represented before. Something good and stable that he didn't have to second-guess.

He didn't though, not right then. He looked back to Peter.

"Most people won't believe us if we say there's a cure", he said out loud. "And there's no way there'll be food or water for another month." He'd gotten so used to ballparking with Peter that he would show a tendency to forget about the other two. It wasn't about exclusion but efficiency. But after a short beat he seemed to remember that Mohinder came from the outside, and he squeezed his arm a bit when he turned his head back to him.

"What's it look like out there?"

Another kiss would have been welcomed, though perhaps for later. Mohinder wanted to speak to Matt alone first any way. He didn't care for the look in his eyes. The hardness made him worry for the mental state Matt was in and clouded himself in guilt and grief. He never should have left. They should have stayed--

But it had been unavoidable, it truly had been. With Molly, her safety was paramount.

"It's not a cure," Mohinder said immediately, looking between Matt, who held his arm, and Peter. "If a person contracts the virus before I can inoculate them, the disease is fatal within three days." That last bit was nothing no one knew. "It takes less than an hour to incubate the disease and Shanti grows in the lungs...it's passed on through breath. Non-infected can not be carriers."

Peter frowned. "Inoculate them how? We tried giving people Claire's blood--"

"It's my blood...and the blood of the three percent of people out there immune to the virus. It's why Matt and Molly are immune. I gave them my blood."

This was all information that came just a little too late, but he'd been doing important work, important research. Even as Matt tried his hand at protecting people that were slowly returned to more savage lifestyles.

He took the centre platform here, back in professor mode, lecturing to the three surrounding him. He felt more in his element here, nothing could be said to change that.

"It's bad out there. Your footage from this city set off panic. There's been three new outbreaks, but no one can figure out how. Sickness comes too quickly and is carried only short distances."

Mohinder likely had reason to worry. Matt was a good person, still tried to be, but a lot of his gentler nature had been stripped away in favor of hard practicality and a sense of ruthlessness. He didn't have the same luxury of emotions he'd had earlier. Peter had a similar look about him. New York wasn't an easy place to be in.

But information was good, and moreover, it was good news. Matt's eyes widened a fraction. "So we're safe", he not-quite-questioned out loud, and at the confirmation he turned to Peter again. "That means we could get these people out of here. If there's anywhere to take them -"

Anywhere at all. It was the situation that made these people cruel. They needed help, were malnourished and weak and desperate, had lost too much. Peter brightened a little at the prospect of actually being that help. Getting to make a difference.

It'd expose them, though. Matt couldn't be sure how much of a problem that would be, but it needed serious consideration and he started pacing again as he thought out loud.

"Is there anywhere they could get help? Centers, hospitals, whatever?"

That was more to Mohinder.

"If not, we need one. We have to get these people out. Does people know we're not contagious?"

"Washington most certainly ought to," Mohinder said, matter-of-factly. "I wrote the missive myself before we even left Atlanta to beg them to send the military back into the cities." That had been a week ago. "Of course, I got myself a bit caught up, and Atlanta was hit soon after. I still believe there must be a place for these people. You certainly can't stay here."

He wouldn't leave Matt, not ever again. Wanting to take his hand, Mohinder still refrained for now. There will be time later for these things. Today? They had to regroup. Had to leave.

"Come back with us to Pinehearst. They'll be better able to coordinate a rescue. It's perhaps one of the most secure research facilities I've ever worked in. There are riots at the door but thus far, no breach. And the riots are bound to stop once the inoculations begin being distributed."

So many pretty words. Mohinder believed them all. It was both to his credit and his general detriment.

"Please. A shower, a shave... And then we'll get these people out of here." He needed to remind Matt that the world was still good.

Matt shared a dubious look with Peter. He could tell that Mohinder fully believed what he was saying but that didn't actually instill total confidence, not that that was Mohinder's fault. There was a divide now between their experiences. Being on the other side of the riots Mohinder described had left marks on both the other men.

At the same time, their options were dwindling. They couldn't do much to help these people from the inside anymore.

So Matt nodded, after a second, and went right back to pick up his gun again, already mentally on his way.

"How many other places are quarantined?" he asked over his shoulder. Molly looked at him in a way he didn't quite like but he wasn't sure how to reassure her right now. "You need to give us the full rundown."

Mohinder looked at Matt as if he had four heads and shook his head, going instead to Molly to get her seated and to give her some water. It had been a harrowing few hours and sure, nothing like what Matt experienced, but...maybe he'd been expecting a warmer greeting (other than whatever fierce passion they'd experienced) from the other man after a month of separation. He knew it wasn't fair of him to think that and he corrected himself immediately.

Giving Matt 'full detail' was impossible. Mohinder had his nose stuck in a lab for almost eighteen hours every single day, only stopping to sleep when he found himself with his nose in the spine of a notebook and his writing incomprehensible.

"Boulder, Boston, Jacksonville, Atlanta, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Detroit, Chicago and Saint Louis are uninhabitable. Everyone else has quarantineed themselves. There'd been a few stories about people being suspected of having the virus turned out or killed, even if it was just the flu. There's martial law just about everywhere. It sounds bad. It is bad. But it won't stay that way. A few more days is all we need."

And a few months later to synthesis the product.

Who knows what damage will be done by then?

If Matt overheard those thoughts he didn't say or think anything in response. But he kept close to his family despite the apparent distance he displayed, wanting to keep his eyes on them. Stood next to Mohinder and gave Molly a long look which she silently returned.

The list was a worrying one. But it could have been worse, he supposed. Peter latched onto that, saying something about how given the size of the country, that really wasn't so bad.

Matt remained cautious, however.

"I hope so", he said darkly in response, looking out the windows for a moment, at the complete lack of movement and the smoke still visible at a distance. "We don't have more time if we want people to come out of this alive."

He made a quick round along the loft after that, took stock on what they had. If they were leaving -

He looked up at Peter. "Want to make a last drop?"

Potentially ill-advised, but they didn't know how long they'd be gone and they still had three spots if they had to return.

"I'm sorry, the last what?" No, it didn't occur to Mohinder that Matt and Peter had been doing more than just getting by here...they'd been trying to help everyone else out too.

Peter, ignoring the scientist, nodded to Matt instead. "I'll do it. If we're leaving and they only have a few more days here, I'll leave notes too. We'll clear out the stores and... Stay with them, Matt." Just in case they were followed. A man and a little girl would be like blood in the water to sharks. Especially ones so clean. They could well have led others to them but Matt could handle it well enough. Over the last few weeks, Peter had seen amazing things come out of Matt he'd never have expected at all.

From anyone.

He had a really tremendous grasp on his ability. Tremendous.

Pater clasped Matt on the wrist like old knights might have and disappeared with the newly found water and a pallet of toilet paper. It was only then, eyes wide, that Mohinder understood.

Matt was closed off emotionally to keep going but he hadn't changed. He was still a good man. A beautifully kind-hearted man in every small sense of the word, truly. Mohinder stood and faced Matt when Peter was gone, Molly looking up at the two of them.

She ended up breaking the silence. "Can I be the flower girl?"

And that's when the two of them would see Matt smile for the first time in a month. It was a tired smile, frayed around the edges, but he crouched down and balanced on the balls of his feet to touch Molly's face. He still had some blood on his hands, dried and cracked up in places, but it didn't leave any traces on Molly's skin.

There was some symbolism in that, probably. If you were into that kind of thing.

"Yeah, sweetheart. Who else?"

Marriage was far off the table as far as discussion went. They couldn't even be married in New York even if they wanted to. But it was such an innocent yet knowing question and that's what Matt meant with his answer, in a sense.

Who else, really?

He pulled her gently towards him and kissed her hair. Then he stood and picked up the last water bottle, half full and lukewarm.

"Okay, c'mon. We should go."

It wasn't entirely dark out yet but Matt didn't want either of them there when darkness really fell.

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