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."

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"I suppose it would be wrong to drug her," he teased, snuggling just as close to Matt as he could possibly manage. It was one of those fantastic sort of moments where the bad in the world stopped existing and they could just be who they were. Family might have been thrown around a lot lately as a term, but it didn't matter. It was who and what they were and no one could take that away from them.

Oh. Oh, how little did they know.

When Mohinder did finally wake, several hours later, it was to Molly in the other room, knocking something over and cursing (in Hindi of all things!) loudly about it. Mohinder frowned and scooted out from under Matt's arm to find their daughter hard at work trying to prepare some sort of meal from items she'd taken from the cafeteria all on her little lonesome.

He stood there for a moment, watching her cleaning up the mess before he cleared his throat. "Your pronunciation is a bit too good," he said quietly, finger to his lips to quiet her from speaking too loudly.

Molly was a little alarmed when he made a noise and looked over her shoulder somewhat guiltily, since she'd hoped not to wake them. But she gave him that small tricksy smile she sometimes had when she picked up the pot from the floor and reached to set it on the table. It was closer than the mini-stove. And there was no water in it yet anyway.

"People said it all the time at the markets. Grandma Suresh didn't think I heard."

Of course she had, though. She was observant and curses were easy to understand in any language.

There was a package of pasta on the table, the kind that was butterfly-shaped, and some broccoli.

"Do you want to help? We can surprise Matt."

"Just because people say things all the time doesn't mean that you ought to say it too," he lectured kindly and bent to help her clean up. She'd seemed to charm her way to one of the cooks to give her plain ingredients. It wasn't as if they had more than a microwave and a hot plate up here, but it was surely good enough.

Mohinder reached a large bowl on the top of a shelf filled with their clothing and placed it on the tiny table. Of course he would help.

Pasta, vegetables, a cheesy sort of sauce. Bacon bits? Well, he'd put that aside from now. Matt could sprinkle it on after. "I don't think we have a large enough spoon, so wash your hands very well."

What? Kids liked to get messy!

She bit her lip and gave him a sidelong glance. "Nobody says it here. You're the only one who understands it", she pointed out, obviously testing her boundaries a little. At the same time, there was a curiosity about it. Was it really a bad word if no one knew?

Getting to the bathroom to fetch the liquid soap they had there, she washed her hands by the kitchen sink. Although the one or two doors there were in this small apartment were usually open, she didn't much like not being able to see the men.

When she was done she handed the soap to Mohinder, because if she had to wash her hands then he should too.

"Surely, I'm not the only person here that speaks Hindi. And even if I would be, you have to wait until you're in high school to start using bad language." It was a tease and hopefully Molly would forget he just said that in the next two years. He actually can't imagine it at all, Molly in high school. She was so big and so smart, but... He wanted more time with the little girl.

Who talked like a Mumbai market trader! Oh dear.

Accepting the soap, Mohinder washed up a well, half way to his elbows, and then followed Molly back to their living space-slash-kitchen with his hands up like a surgeon.

"Are you prepared, Doctor Walker?" he asked, giving her a solemn look. He certainly was the more strict of the two, but that was fine. Matt was intimidating but far more huggable. Mohinder thought so too.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Okay, I won't." At least not when he heard. And he wouldn't get to tell her off when she started high school, either.

If she started school again. She wanted to, but things kept changing all the time and it left her kind of doubtful. But at least they were all together again.

She fought not to giggle when Mohinder looked at her that way, succeeded pretty well in that, and put the package of pasta in his hand with great care like she'd seen on TV. "Super prepared." Then she grinned. "The broccoli aren't feeling too well. They need an operation."

"I'll show you a bit of a trick to reviving them," Mohinder said, going for the bucket of ice sitting on the counter. This certainly was no hotel but there was an ice machine at the end of the hall. He'd never questioned it. It came in handy.

Filling a bowl with water and dumping the ice in, Mohinder 'shocked' the broccoli so Molly could see and the limp vegetable regained some colour and even a bit of crunch.

"Go one then, be careful, they're still quite hot. Blot off the water and mix them in quite well with the pasta." He'd give Molly the messier jobs. He'd rather spend the time with the miniature microwave warming up whatever sauce she'd stolen. It tasted a bit salty, so likely, it was some sort of cheese product. Not the best, but it would be tasty for the Americans no doubt.

When the ingredients were hand mixed, Mohinder watched the girl for a few minutes and tried to open her up a bit.

"We won't be staying here too much longer, Molly. When it's safe, would you like to find a new home somewhere else?"

"This is so weird."

Molly quite enjoyed the messier tasks, so it worked out well, even if she looked skeptical at some of the things he suggested. Vegetables in ice? That didn't make much sense to her, but she knew Mohinder was a good cook, so she followed the instructions. Not without poking some fun at it, though.

She also made a show of threatening him with her messy fingers once she'd mixed the ingredients together but had sense enough to not actually grab any clothing. They both washed their hands again after that, though.

She was grabbing some forks to start setting the table when he asked her that, and she put the cutlery down after glancing at him. She knew what that meant. It was an issue to her even if it couldn't be helped.

"I know we have to", she said. What she wanted or what any of them wanted didn't seem to matter in the end and she was aware of this. "When will it be safe?"

Mohinder sat at the table after they'd finished putting lunch (or was it dinner?) together and gently stroked back some of Molly's hair from off her shoulder and away from her face. "In a few days. We've got medicine for the people here, for the people in the areas around the outbreaks. As it's made, it's being given out."

Well. Sold for a nominal charge to cover manufacturing and covered by all American insurance types which amounted to roughly five dollars a dose. Mohinder thought that reasonable for everyone, especially because Pinehearst could not function without capital investments.

And it wasn't as if they were making a profit on Mohinder's hard work.

Yet.

"We can't go back to New York. Or Atlanta. But there are safe places for us. You can return to school. Matt and I will find new work."

She thought that it wouldn't really be returning if it wasn't the same school, but she didn't say anything about that. Mohinder was just trying to make her feel better.

But still.

"It's unfair", she said somewhat dejectedly. And it really was, but they all knew that. She looked up at him. "Do we have to keep hiding?"

Because if there really was a place that was safe, really safe, then they shouldn't have to. Right?

It was incredibly difficult to disappoint the poor thing, but Mohinder and Matt had been drilling this into her pretty head since she arrived with them. "You have to hide your ability from anyone without one," Mohinder said, his full attention on the girl and not on the dish warming in the microwave. "Even some people with them are dangerous," he reminded her. "But there will be times when you believe a person to be trustworthy of knowing who you are and what you can do."

This felt like a virginity advocacy talk. Mohinder found it quite uncomfortable.

"When and if that time comes, it will be up to you to decide if you share yourself with them or not. No matter where we go, however, you are legally Matt's daughter. And legally mine. We don't have to worry about the Company any more, not like we did. We don't have to hide our family. But if you'd rather not discuss it with your friends at your new school, that's all right too."

"I know", she said, because she did. She paid attention, and she listened, and she understood. It had been pretty good to know that she was theirs, and they'd asked if that was okay and she'd said yeah, because even if she missed her parents a lot she knew Matt and Mohinder loved her and wanted to be with her and wanted to keep her safe. That's what parents did. She loved them too.

"And the Bogeyman is dead", she added, a not-really-question because she needed the confirmation. She watched for it in Mohinder's face. "And the Nightmare man won't wake up. So we don't have to be scared of them."

"That's right," Mohinder told her, ghostly smile on his lips. "That's exactly right. But there are bad people in the world, Molly. People that might exploit you. Your gift is powerful and in the wrong hands, it could be used to hurt someone. That's why we have to be careful about it, though Matt and I will make sure you're safe."

He tucked that ornery strand of light brown behind her ear again since it hardly seemed capable of staying put.

"We don't have to hide any more, though." And it might be difficult to. Matt was famous. Mohinder, in name at least, would be too. "But we might stay out of big cities and stay someplace a little more quiet."

She knew that, too. She smiled back at him though, feeling a bit better. People could be really bad but at least her new parents were good, even if they fought sometimes.

She was thinking along the same lines as Mohinder, too. "Because you're famous now", she said easily enough. She'd seen that on TV a lot. Famous people had to hide from the news crew if they wanted to be left alone. It was one of the reason she didn't want to be, either. "If we move to the country, can we have animals?"

"I'm not as famous as Matt is," Mohinder said glumly though... Honestly? He rather liked thinking he'd have name recognition. Isn't that what every man wanted? He wasn't exactly special, but he was smart, and he'd saved lives. There was a distinct potential of that going right to his foolish, fluffy head.

He heard the microwave ding and he stood up to fetch the bowl. Matt should be woken in a few minutes or he'd be even more screwed up in his sleep schedule.

Mohinder thought about unleashing Molly on him when the question came.

"Before I say yes or no, what sort of animals are you imagining?"

"No, but you will be." Molly was absolutely sure of this. "Unless you won't take interviews or pictures. Then people will forget."

She stood when Mohinder did and pulled the chair over to the cabinets so she could stand on it and reach for glasses, because she'd been distracted by the talking from getting them the last time around. It was from that position she shot Mohinder one of her entirely too charming smiles.

"Bunnies. They're soft. And quiet. Please?"

Bunnies. Well, bunnies were not as easy as fish. But not as difficult as dogs. Mohinder wouldn't have to have horrific flash backs to lab assignments at Cambridge with mice or rats and they lived a lot longer than hamsters or love birds. So. "Bunnies. I believe we can work something out that you could have bunnies. Everyone will need to be tested for allergies first and we'll have to ask Matt. Nicely."

Or beg him. Mohinder knew how Molly operated when it came to the older man. He was a softy, she was his little princess. And Mohinder... Well, Mohinder wasn't always the enforcer, even if he did tend to lean that way. Often.

He didn't think much about interviews or photos right now. None of that was important. He'd rather write a paper or two. Publish a book. The rest was inconsequential.

She lit up. "Okay! Should I wake him?"

Not necessarily to ask about bunnies, but because his name served as a reminder that he was still asleep. Still, maybe the prospect of bunnies had something to do with it. Less because of a bunny itself but because ... well, families had pets. And it was another little promise that they'd stay together.

She never doubted that they wanted to, but it was always nice when it was confirmed.

When Mohinder gave his agreement she finished setting the table before she went off into his and Matt's room and pounced gently on the man asleep there. There was an art to it that all children had.

"Matt, wake up! We made food!"

Matt, who in all honesty would be content to stay asleep for five more hours, nonetheless cracked open an eye to look at her smile. "Five more minutes, mom", he teased her with a yawn, and she laughed and pulled on his hand.

He got up. Of course he did, but it was in that half-asleep state that was all about stretching and scrubbing your hand across your face to wake up properly. In Matt's case, it was his first uninterrupted sleep in a month - if he had difficulty pulling himself from it, it was probably understandable. He felt so much better though and even if he still looked kind of hollowed out, it was easy to forget when he smiled.

"Hey, pasta!"

"Pasta only if you wash your hands," Mohinder said affectionately and Molly nodded.

"Better do it, he'll nag."

"Nag!" Mohinder clucked his tongue. "I do not nag. Nagging is for old women and I'm neither. And don't you say I am old, Miss Walker, because you'll be thirty one day yourself and have a whole new definition of old." There was nothing terrible being planned for the evening. All around them, the world was slowly healing itself.

After dinner and washing up, they -- the three of them, the first time they could say that in awhile -- went to the employee lounge and witnesses the new reports of the first batch of inoculations being manufactured on a larger scale intermeshed with responses and relief from the rest of the country.

Even the former Mayor of New York had something to say about the military returning to the city to help survivors out.

Mohinder just relaxed on one of the large sofas, leaning against Matt, Molly on the other man's lap. Finally. A win.

Matt laughed as he went to wash his hands. "Don't lie about your age, Suresh, it's unattractive." Not that Mohinder was much older than thirty, but still. Ribbing him was always too much fun to pass up.

Breakfast-dinner was nice, and although the three of them wouldn't function on normal hours for a while, it didn't seem to matter. It was getting dark out but the building was all lit up as people kept working and it was quite lively in the lounge.

There were cheers and some applause amid the mostly-serious atmosphere and that was really nice. People congratulating and smiling at each other - a whole room-full of them - it was more than nice.

Then again, they'd really earned it. They'd managed something really big.

Matt had his arms wrapped around Molly's stomach and his chin leaning near Mohinder's temple, thinking back at him.

You made it happen, you know.

Matt believed that. Mohinder didn't always seem to. But nodding towards that cute assistant of his, Tabitha something as she came up to them, smiling widely, Matt added, You better shake some hands, man.

Thirty-three was not a great deal older than thirty, thank you very much, and he was still stewing a little bit even as they watched television. Mohinder wondered, absently, if they could get a Disney movie on instead, this had to be boring to watch for everyone else, when Matt's thoughts struck him a bit oddly.

What good will shaking hands do? Mohinder did want the best for everyone, including himself. That had little to do with photo ops and handshaking. He wanted leave to have a bunny farm with Matt and Molly somewhere quiet where he could continue his research, write a few books...and maybe save the day a few more times.

He didn't need to be thanked. Though, he'd not argue if they decided to pay him a little better.

College was expensive. Even if Molly ended up not going and went into a trade instead, he wanted to be able to leave her something.

Matt rolled his eyes, but it was with a half-smirk, half-smile.

It's about morale. Team spirit, all that. Really did keep to yourself a lot, huh?

It was something Matt had seen and experienced with a lot of groups. High school, for one; football team on the whole; everyone at the precinct. Getting a sense of unity helped a lot when you had something to take on. It wasn't so much about being thanked as having and offering some support. Matt saw it clearly enough. He was a people person, really, only it didn't show as much these days beneath the grime of distrust and suspicion he'd accumulated lately.

Now though he took a second to briefly nuzzle Mohinder's hair with his nose.

Molly, who was watching the news with interest, paid them little mind. She knew they were in love, they were just being silly the way such people often were.

Just mingle. Trust me.

Tabitha had approached by then and was giving them a sunny smile. "You must be feeling pretty happy right now, doc! Hi, mister Parkman. Molly."

Detective Parkman, Mohinder thought to himself but smiles, not bothering to extract himself from his family. He'd done a lot of touching with Matt in the last day but as far as he was concerned, there was never enough touching happening here. He had little to say about morale, or about getting out much. Mohinder was personable, after all, but he didn't actively seek people. He wasn't actively gregarious. Terrible, that. He did so well when he let them in.

Except when he really, really did not.

Mohinder tilted his head slightly when Tabitha joined them, pulling up a chair. "Why aren't you going to California with the rest of us?" she asked, obviously a little perturbed. She didn't have any romantic aspirations with Mohinder, but he was her mentor and his father's book had changed her life. "We don't smell, do we? I'll talk to Howie about--"

Mohinder laughed. "No, of course not. You're all very important to this project. I don't want to put my family in danger, no matter how slight. I'm sure you understand. And besides, you hardly need me to oversee the production of the serum. And if you do, Arthur will know how to reach me."

She turned the chair backwards so she was resting her arms over the back of it when she sat down. She'd miss him, in a way. It was in her mind and Matt picked it up easily enough, but he looked at her a lot more mildly than he had when they'd first met.

"Ah, the big boss", she mused. "Think he'll send us off with a big speech or something? It's quite the occasion."

"Why didn't he do any speeches for TV?" Molly spoke up, genuinely curious. It struck Matt as a little odd, but it was true - he'd never seen this Arthur character, and his name had been nowhere in the news.

Maybe he worked under an assumed name?

Pinehearst seemed to have an entirely different spokesperson, at any rate.

"Perhaps he'd rather have pretty young things do his talking," Mohinder said, not finding anything suspicious. He so rarely did. It was an admirable and likely his most poignantly stupid asset. How he managed through life was impossible to guess, though before Sylar, before New York, he'd be entirely too bookish to care about the world around him.

Research, there'd only been research.

Now there was fear and love and a little girl and revenge and a deep seated exhaustion in his very bones that didn't let him think through the oddity of Arthur never really appearing anywhere, always calling people up to the seventh floor.

"Large companies have people that do the talking for them. They're much too busy and likely not the sort to be good at speaking, not even prepared statements." Which brought him back to Tabitha. "I'm not sure he'll give a speech. As much as I like to talk, neither will I. But you're brilliant, Tabitha. You are. You'll do quite a lot of good in the world."

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