Fic: The Road of Destiny (6/?)
Title: The Road of Destiny (6/?)
Author: crystal_mk
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13 for this part but NC-17 as a whole
Summary: Destiny writes the road but do we get to decide whether or not we follow?
Warnings: Angst!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
It was two weeks after I asked for Peter’s help in implementing Bennet’s plan only to have him refuse to help, or get in involved in any way but to kill the man who assassinated his older brother (or would have assassinated Nathan Petrelli if we had not acted as quickly as we did in getting him to a hospital far removed from The Company’s reaches) and Bob had interrogated me about my actions surrounding the Shanti virus and I still hadn’t made any progress in developing the virus. Actually, that was a lie. I had made some progress in that I was able to isolate the specific marker on the virus that affected the infected individual’s nervous system, shutting it down and killing the poor soul who had contracted the virus. This was good for my cover story with Bob, but not so much for my genuine reason: creating a virus designed to specifically attack Sylar’s genetic code and kill him quickly without infecting anybody else. I was still trying to figure out a way to use that knowledge to help me with manipulating the virus to that end.
It’s almost enough to make me miss the golden days of traveling the country with a disguised serial killer. It seemed to me things were so much simpler in those days. He lied, I believed, I found out his lies, he tortured and tried to kill me. Everything was so straightforward and easy to understand. Not so much the motivations, but rather the sequence of things.
At work, despite Bennet’s assurances that he would take care of it, I had Bob breathing down my neck for regular updates on my progress and Elle had decided to make a habit of dropping in to visit anytime she very well pleased. I couldn’t turn her away without drawing suspicion to myself so I had to tolerate her less than subtle advances and insinuations that she would make a nice third member of the “exclusive Parkman-Suresh boys club”; meaning that she wanted to have a threesome with Matthew and me. It took me a bit to discern exactly what she was suggesting, and only then with Matthew’s help, and now I had taken to hiding under my desk anytime she walked past. She was more than a little bit frightening without making sexual advances toward my partner and me.
Besides, I don’t share well with others. Especially Matthew.
Things had been tense at home for a while as well. Matthew and I were snapping at each other for any and all reasons, our argument over my teaming up with Bennet again turning into an epic battle over whether or not the garbage should be taken out after dinner or taken out right before it was time to shower and hours after dinner. Poor Molly suffered the aftershocks of this tension. Although we had come to an unspoken agreement to never involve Molly in our arguments, not that it was ever a possibility, she was an intelligent and perceptive girl; she could sense that all was not well and right in the world of our home. We tried our best to shield her but I could tell that she was picking up on it. Her nightmares were returning, she always tried to step between Matthew and I our voices began to get louder, her hugs were a little tighter, lasted a little longer. In deference to her fragility and health, I made a point to avoid discussing work at home and Matthew made an effort to accept my decision. Neither of us wanted to hurt Molly and we were willing to make concessions to protect our daughter, even from ourselves. Home life was working better now, Matthew and I returning to our normal, happy, relationship status, although the underlying stress was still there beneath the surface. Just better disguised.
I was currently sitting in front of my computer screen, cursing it to the deepest depths of a fiery hell where obsolete and difficult technology was sent by furious and frustrated owners, while debating the pros and cons of smashing it in to tiny little pieces with the too small stool that had been my home for the past two weeks. It would certainly make me feel better to obliterate it in a most gratifying way. The only problem with that plan being that my bank book would probably die an incredibly horrible death in a spasm of overdraft fees trying to pay for a replacement.
So I suppose this means that destroying the computer is on my list of bad ideas
I sighed and pushed the chair away from the counter, dragging a hand across my face. My eyes felt tired and grainy from staring at the computer screen for so long and my lower back was sending shooting signals of pain up my spine from hunching over the computer and microscope for such a long time. I was simply exhausted and just noticed that my stomach was rumbling in hunger. I forgot lunch. Again.
Wonder how long it’s been making that noise
“Doctor Suresh?” a voice startled me from the door.
I jumped up, sore muscles and joints screaming in protest at the effort, and whirled around to see my assistant, Sara or Samantha…or maybe Annie Something-or-other, standing in the doorway, skittish expression on her face telling me she was reading to bolt if I moved too fast or made a threatening gesture; such as blinking too fast.
I was still trying to figure out how I got the reputation of such a “hard ass” ,as Matthew would say (although Matthew would most likely use that phrase in a different, far more pleasing to my image, context), at work. She was my…fourth assistant this month?
“What is it?”
“Umm…Matt Parkman called. He said to tell you to be ready. He’ll be here in ten minutes to pick you up,” she said quickly.
I nodded my acknowledgement brusquely and she couldn’t have ducked out faster if I had a gun in hand and was using her as target practice. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and the stress, but her unreasonable, and unfounded, fear of me grated on my already raw nerves and I found myself making a note to request that Bob not assign me any more assistants. I was perfectly capable of getting my own tea and running away from myself if the occasion called for it.
I yawned, pushing my hands above my head and stretching languidly. I bent backwards, feeling and hearing my back crack in a series of satisfying pops that relieved the stiff ache that had settled in my spine after sitting for hours.
I suppose Matthew’s phone call means that he was serious the other night. I was late for dinner for the second time that week and he threatened that if I was late again he was coming down to the lab and dragging me home by my hair.
Which shouldn’t have sounded as appealing as it did.
I quickly cleaned up, putting beakers and supplies in their proper cupboards and making sure to lock them up securely. I cleaned the work area with a strong bleach solution three times before gathering a few files that I wanted to take home to review and putting them in my messenger bag. There was a vault in the back of the lab, built specifically to house the samples of the virus I was working with. What used to be Isaac Mendez’s bedroom was now a room of reinforced steel and titanium and anything else The Company could think of, as well as the most sophisticated alarm system in the world that secured it from anywhere between the common household robber, looking for something shiny to pawn, to a nuclear blast. Of course whether or not it was secure from Peter had yet to be proven, although The Company wasn’t too keen on testing it.
I was securing the samples in the cold vault when I heard raised voices coming from the other room. I quickly locked everything up and hurried out, thinking it was Matthew, having arrived with me nowhere to be found, calling for me.
“I know what you’re planning Bennet!” Matthew was shouting, “I saw it and I’m not going to let it happen!”
“You can’t do anything about it Parkman. It’s Mohinder’s choice.”
“The hell it is! How can he make a choice if you don’t give him all the facts?”
They were facing each other on the floor, right over Isaac’s portrayal of an apocalyptic New York City that thankfully never happened. I never got it removed because I felt it reminded me of what could happen when you allow the situation to get out of hand and make the stupid mistake of trusting a serial killer.
Matthew was looming over Bennet, using his superior height and size to his advantage and trying to intimidate him. He looked menacing and frightening and I was more than a little gratified to see that Bennet looked afraid, even if it was a little bit. But still…
“What’s going on here?” I asked sharply.
They both jumped a bit, surprise at finding me behind them evident on their slightly guilty looking expressions.
“Mohinder,” Bennet said smoothly, recovering first, “We were just discussing you.”
“Really?” I said sarcastically, “I hadn’t noticed. Care to enlighten me as to what exactly you were discussing that involved my participation?”
“We were discussing that fact that this is over. It was a mistake to think we could work with Bennet and we’re getting out now before anybody gets hurt,” Matthew said forcefully, not even looking at me but boring a hole in Bennet’s skull with his eyes.
He walked over to the stool that I had set my bag on and grabbed it before walking over to me quickly.
“W-what are you talking about Matthew?” I asked, at a loss as to what was going on.
He grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards the door, “We’ll talk about this when we get home,” he said with a note of finality in his tone.
I dug my heels into the floor and yanked my arm free of his grasp, “What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” Matthew spit out, rounding on me with the same threatening expression he’d just used for Bennet, “What’s wrong with me? The better question is; what’s wrong with you? What is wrong with you Mohinder? Have you gotten so far embedded in this plan, so much involved in Bennet’s manipulations and lies, that you forgot our deal? We agreed from the very beginning that if one of us wanted out, it would be over. I want out Mohinder. I want out and I want you out.”
I pressed the heels of my hand against my eyes in frustration, pushing until I saw flashing lights behind my eyes, “Why? Why…when did this happen?”
“It doesn’t matter Mohinder; I want out,” he snapped with barely restrained anger.
I’ve never been afraid of Matthew. Not for one moment in our entire life together, but at his tone, dark and full of hateful anger, I took a step back.
“I want out Mohinder,” he said, voice and eyes softening as he stepped forward to take my hands in a gentle grasp, “Please Mohinder, just trust me on this. Please come home with me.”
I glanced helplessly at Bennet who had remained silent for the duration of the argument, trying to figure out how thing had gotten so out of control. His face remained impassive, his eyes hidden behind the trademark horn-rimmed glasses.
I was near frantic. “B-but I finally made some progress Matthew. Not that much, but some. I really think that it just might be possible, that I might be able to do it. It is possible and I can do it. We can do it. We can destroy Sylar for good and this time there won’t be any coming back. He can’t hurt us anymore, can’t hurt Molly anymore.” I felt him trying to take his hands away and I grabbed them tighter, “Please Matthew, don’t do this. We are so close to finally being free. Don’t you understand? We are so close Matthew.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously and he viciously wrenched his hands out of mine. He roughly thrust my bag at me, forcing me to take a step back to maintain my balance. He threw Bennet one last malevolent glare before turning around and stomping away.
“Matthew,” I called after him pleadingly.
He whipped around, face twisted with so much rage I took another step back, “You know I could force you to stop. It would be so easy for me to tell you to stop, to leave all this alone and come home with me. I could and it would be so incredibly easy Mohinder. You want to know why I won’t? Because you asked me not to and I made you a promise; just like you made me a promise. I promised you that I wouldn’t use my ability against you unless you told me it was okay. I keep my promises Mohinder. You should really try it, maybe you’d actually be able to keep the people who really care about you.”
I could only watch helplessly as he stormed out, slamming the door so hard the hinges rattled after him. I was confused and hurt and had no idea where this maelstrom of anger came from. I knew that Matthew wasn’t happy with my decision but this was too much. It just came out of nowhere. I turned to where Bennet still stood. I saw the flash of smug accomplishment on his face before he slipped his bored mask back on.
“What did you do?” I asked him, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Nothing,” Bennet lied.
And what a good liar he was. Convincing liar. Good thing I learned more than how to shoot a gun from the last time we worked together or I might actually believe him.
“What did you do?” I reiterated, this time with more force.
He gave a long-suffering sigh, “Parkman might have picked up on a few of my thoughts that I would rather he not have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked suspiciously.
“I got a lead on Sylar. The problem with the plan is that it’s going to be much more difficult than I anticipated to lure him back to New York City. Parkman probably heard me thinking about that.”
“And why would that upset him so much?”
“Because it mean we’re going to have to break one of his rules. We need you Mohinder. You’re the only good enough reason we have that would convince Sylar to come back. We need to use you as bait.”
I nodded slowly, everything clicking into place. Of course Matthew would be upset if he picked up on that thought. Last time we encountered Sylar, he put me in the hospital for two weeks. Matthew still felt guilty about that, as if he should have been able to do something to protect me. If Bennet was thinking about using me to lure Sylar here I’m just surprised he didn’t follow through with his threat and shoot him.
“That’s unacceptable,” I said, “I won’t be used as bait. Why do we have to bring him back here to begin with? Why can’t we just go to him?”
Bennet looked uncomfortable for half-a-second, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond, but his confidence soon returned, “Because he never stays in one place to long enough. It was hard enough to get this lead on him. When we do manage to pinpoint his location, we can’t afford to take the chance that we won’t be quick enough or we won’t be convincing enough. Mohinder, we need to do this if we want to have any hope of getting to Sylar. You know as well as I do that this is the only plan that has any hope of working.”
I turned away from him in silence. A part of me always knew this was coming, always knew that there was no way to avoid it. Sylar was smart enough to stay away from New York but for whatever reason he was determined to make me suffer. Give him the opportunity to hurt me and he would come running. I had been trying to deny it since the beginning because I didn’t want to face him again and I knew how much it would upset Matthew. However, Bennet was right and it couldn’t be avoided.
I turned back to him resignedly, “Very well Bennet but you have to give us a warning in advance, well in advance, so we can get Molly to safety.”
“What about Parkman?”
“I have no doubt that Matthew will insist on being there and I’m not too inclined to deny him. He’ll be there to make sure everything goes as planned and nothing, nothing, goes wrong.”
He paused for a minute before nodding his assent.
If I didn’t know better I would suspect that Bennet was disappointed in that fact. If I didn’t know better I would say that he was hoping to cause a rift between Matthew and I so much so that he would not want anything to do with me. If I didn’t know better I would say that Bennet did not want Matthew there to watch over me.
But I know better.
I made a note to watch Bennet more closely and make sure he stays away from Matthew. He caused enough damage tonight and I didn’t want him to be able to cause any irreparable damage.
“I need to get home,” I said abruptly.
He nodded, turned, and walked out the door. Just like that I was alone again. I needed to get home so I could bridge the chasm between Matthew and me and make it right but I couldn’t force my feet to move. I collapsed in a pathetic heap on the floor, struggling to breathe as I felt my chest constrict with what felt like a panic attack. I felt like my entire world was spiraling out of control and every time I tried to reach out, tried to hold onto something, my fingers slipped and I was falling, falling, falling; never stopping until I reached a bottom I couldn’t see but instinctively knew was hard and rough and filled with the sharp spikes of emptiness and loneliness.
Matthew was angry with me. More than that, he doubted me. Doubted my sincerity, my trust, my loyalty, my devotion to him. Doubted my love for him. If I couldn’t convince him to stay, that there was nothing more important to me than him and Molly, I could lose him and her forever.
I grabbed my bag and ran out, slamming the door shut and quickly punching in the alarm code to arm it. I threw my hand up in the air to hail a cab and spent the whole ride home silently entreating the driver to go just a little bit faster, run that yellow light so I could get home sooner. It had been over an hour since Matthew had left the lab and I was desperately hoping he was still home. The sun was going down as I unlocked the apartment door and the first thing I noticed was how dark it was. The rooms were cast in dusky shadows; not a single light to illuminate the darkened corners.
Then I noticed the silence. It was quiet and Molly hadn’t come running out of the living room or her room to greet me. Matthew didn’t have the television blaring from the living room, tuned to some kind of cop show that he wasn’t even paying attention to because Molly was doing something too adorable not to watch.
Then I noticed the blinking red light of the answering machine on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.
I slowly made my way over to the little box, dropping my bag to land with a dull thud on the floor along the way, and pressed the button. I ignored the message from Bob asking for an update and the message from Matthew’s sergeant telling him he needed that Marquez report done. Then I heard Matthew’s voice, drowning out all the noises from the street below.
I’m taking Molly somewhere safe. I love you Mohinder but I’m not going to let you bring me or Molly down with you. If you change your mind, you know how to find us.
.
.
.
Molly says she loves you and wants you to come home.
The beep that followed the message sound deafening in the resounding silence of the tiny apartment.
I backed up until my knees hit the kitchen chair behind me, sitting down heavily. How could this happen? Wasn’t it just yesterday I was taking Molly to get ice cream because she did so well on her math exam? Wasn’t it just yesterday I was trying to teach Matthew and Molly how to make banana pancakes? Wasn’t it just yesterday Matthew was waking me up a few minutes before the alarm was set to go off with soft kisses along my jaw, a far better way to wake up than the annoying beep of the alarm clock? How could it have been just yesterday that we have been a happy family and today I be sitting in our kitchen, alone but for a brief message on the answering machine and some files from work?
I forced myself to stand up and fill the kettle with water for tea, filling my cup partially with chai and soy milk. In the end I couldn’t drink it. Just the smell had my stomach rolling in protest. I decided to just take a shower and go to bed early. I showered quickly. I kept expecting Molly to come banging on the door because she had to use the bathroom and no she can’t wait or Matthew to come in, telling me that I was using all the hot water and if I was going to be in there so long I was going to be getting a most welcome guest.
I didn’t want to go to bed and instead ended up on the couch, reviewing files that I didn’t really see or even care about. I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping. It didn’t feel right without telling Molly her bedtime story and kissing her goodnight or grinning up at Matthew as I kissed away the little blue spot of foamy spittle on his chin while we brushed our teeth together. Nothing felt right anymore. The apartment was empty and hollow, colder than I remembered
Before I knew what I was doing, I was punching in the code at the lab to let myself in. I had my supplies out, my beakers filled, the virus out, and the computer I had been trying not to destroy just a few short hours earlier on and in front of me before I realized that I was back at work. Without anyone waiting at home for me, without anyone to worry when I came home late without calling, I had no reason to leave the lab. I could stay as long as I needed without feeling guilty about causing my daughter undue worry and my partner more stress than he already has. Without distractions I had a better chance of succeeding faster and putting Bennet’s plan into motion sooner and finally getting rid of Sylar for good.
Is it worth it?
I slumped away from the computer screen, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. An image of Molly’s happy face, bright smile shining with joy, as Matthew bear hugged her after coming home from work, rumpled and tired but still grinning at me over her hair flashed through my mind and I knew the answer. I turned back to my work with renewed fervor, determined to finish this once and for all.
For them.
Author: crystal_mk
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13 for this part but NC-17 as a whole
Summary: Destiny writes the road but do we get to decide whether or not we follow?
Warnings: Angst!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
It was two weeks after I asked for Peter’s help in implementing Bennet’s plan only to have him refuse to help, or get in involved in any way but to kill the man who assassinated his older brother (or would have assassinated Nathan Petrelli if we had not acted as quickly as we did in getting him to a hospital far removed from The Company’s reaches) and Bob had interrogated me about my actions surrounding the Shanti virus and I still hadn’t made any progress in developing the virus. Actually, that was a lie. I had made some progress in that I was able to isolate the specific marker on the virus that affected the infected individual’s nervous system, shutting it down and killing the poor soul who had contracted the virus. This was good for my cover story with Bob, but not so much for my genuine reason: creating a virus designed to specifically attack Sylar’s genetic code and kill him quickly without infecting anybody else. I was still trying to figure out a way to use that knowledge to help me with manipulating the virus to that end.
It’s almost enough to make me miss the golden days of traveling the country with a disguised serial killer. It seemed to me things were so much simpler in those days. He lied, I believed, I found out his lies, he tortured and tried to kill me. Everything was so straightforward and easy to understand. Not so much the motivations, but rather the sequence of things.
At work, despite Bennet’s assurances that he would take care of it, I had Bob breathing down my neck for regular updates on my progress and Elle had decided to make a habit of dropping in to visit anytime she very well pleased. I couldn’t turn her away without drawing suspicion to myself so I had to tolerate her less than subtle advances and insinuations that she would make a nice third member of the “exclusive Parkman-Suresh boys club”; meaning that she wanted to have a threesome with Matthew and me. It took me a bit to discern exactly what she was suggesting, and only then with Matthew’s help, and now I had taken to hiding under my desk anytime she walked past. She was more than a little bit frightening without making sexual advances toward my partner and me.
Besides, I don’t share well with others. Especially Matthew.
Things had been tense at home for a while as well. Matthew and I were snapping at each other for any and all reasons, our argument over my teaming up with Bennet again turning into an epic battle over whether or not the garbage should be taken out after dinner or taken out right before it was time to shower and hours after dinner. Poor Molly suffered the aftershocks of this tension. Although we had come to an unspoken agreement to never involve Molly in our arguments, not that it was ever a possibility, she was an intelligent and perceptive girl; she could sense that all was not well and right in the world of our home. We tried our best to shield her but I could tell that she was picking up on it. Her nightmares were returning, she always tried to step between Matthew and I our voices began to get louder, her hugs were a little tighter, lasted a little longer. In deference to her fragility and health, I made a point to avoid discussing work at home and Matthew made an effort to accept my decision. Neither of us wanted to hurt Molly and we were willing to make concessions to protect our daughter, even from ourselves. Home life was working better now, Matthew and I returning to our normal, happy, relationship status, although the underlying stress was still there beneath the surface. Just better disguised.
I was currently sitting in front of my computer screen, cursing it to the deepest depths of a fiery hell where obsolete and difficult technology was sent by furious and frustrated owners, while debating the pros and cons of smashing it in to tiny little pieces with the too small stool that had been my home for the past two weeks. It would certainly make me feel better to obliterate it in a most gratifying way. The only problem with that plan being that my bank book would probably die an incredibly horrible death in a spasm of overdraft fees trying to pay for a replacement.
So I suppose this means that destroying the computer is on my list of bad ideas
I sighed and pushed the chair away from the counter, dragging a hand across my face. My eyes felt tired and grainy from staring at the computer screen for so long and my lower back was sending shooting signals of pain up my spine from hunching over the computer and microscope for such a long time. I was simply exhausted and just noticed that my stomach was rumbling in hunger. I forgot lunch. Again.
Wonder how long it’s been making that noise
“Doctor Suresh?” a voice startled me from the door.
I jumped up, sore muscles and joints screaming in protest at the effort, and whirled around to see my assistant, Sara or Samantha…or maybe Annie Something-or-other, standing in the doorway, skittish expression on her face telling me she was reading to bolt if I moved too fast or made a threatening gesture; such as blinking too fast.
I was still trying to figure out how I got the reputation of such a “hard ass” ,as Matthew would say (although Matthew would most likely use that phrase in a different, far more pleasing to my image, context), at work. She was my…fourth assistant this month?
“What is it?”
“Umm…Matt Parkman called. He said to tell you to be ready. He’ll be here in ten minutes to pick you up,” she said quickly.
I nodded my acknowledgement brusquely and she couldn’t have ducked out faster if I had a gun in hand and was using her as target practice. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and the stress, but her unreasonable, and unfounded, fear of me grated on my already raw nerves and I found myself making a note to request that Bob not assign me any more assistants. I was perfectly capable of getting my own tea and running away from myself if the occasion called for it.
I yawned, pushing my hands above my head and stretching languidly. I bent backwards, feeling and hearing my back crack in a series of satisfying pops that relieved the stiff ache that had settled in my spine after sitting for hours.
I suppose Matthew’s phone call means that he was serious the other night. I was late for dinner for the second time that week and he threatened that if I was late again he was coming down to the lab and dragging me home by my hair.
Which shouldn’t have sounded as appealing as it did.
I quickly cleaned up, putting beakers and supplies in their proper cupboards and making sure to lock them up securely. I cleaned the work area with a strong bleach solution three times before gathering a few files that I wanted to take home to review and putting them in my messenger bag. There was a vault in the back of the lab, built specifically to house the samples of the virus I was working with. What used to be Isaac Mendez’s bedroom was now a room of reinforced steel and titanium and anything else The Company could think of, as well as the most sophisticated alarm system in the world that secured it from anywhere between the common household robber, looking for something shiny to pawn, to a nuclear blast. Of course whether or not it was secure from Peter had yet to be proven, although The Company wasn’t too keen on testing it.
I was securing the samples in the cold vault when I heard raised voices coming from the other room. I quickly locked everything up and hurried out, thinking it was Matthew, having arrived with me nowhere to be found, calling for me.
“I know what you’re planning Bennet!” Matthew was shouting, “I saw it and I’m not going to let it happen!”
“You can’t do anything about it Parkman. It’s Mohinder’s choice.”
“The hell it is! How can he make a choice if you don’t give him all the facts?”
They were facing each other on the floor, right over Isaac’s portrayal of an apocalyptic New York City that thankfully never happened. I never got it removed because I felt it reminded me of what could happen when you allow the situation to get out of hand and make the stupid mistake of trusting a serial killer.
Matthew was looming over Bennet, using his superior height and size to his advantage and trying to intimidate him. He looked menacing and frightening and I was more than a little gratified to see that Bennet looked afraid, even if it was a little bit. But still…
“What’s going on here?” I asked sharply.
They both jumped a bit, surprise at finding me behind them evident on their slightly guilty looking expressions.
“Mohinder,” Bennet said smoothly, recovering first, “We were just discussing you.”
“Really?” I said sarcastically, “I hadn’t noticed. Care to enlighten me as to what exactly you were discussing that involved my participation?”
“We were discussing that fact that this is over. It was a mistake to think we could work with Bennet and we’re getting out now before anybody gets hurt,” Matthew said forcefully, not even looking at me but boring a hole in Bennet’s skull with his eyes.
He walked over to the stool that I had set my bag on and grabbed it before walking over to me quickly.
“W-what are you talking about Matthew?” I asked, at a loss as to what was going on.
He grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards the door, “We’ll talk about this when we get home,” he said with a note of finality in his tone.
I dug my heels into the floor and yanked my arm free of his grasp, “What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” Matthew spit out, rounding on me with the same threatening expression he’d just used for Bennet, “What’s wrong with me? The better question is; what’s wrong with you? What is wrong with you Mohinder? Have you gotten so far embedded in this plan, so much involved in Bennet’s manipulations and lies, that you forgot our deal? We agreed from the very beginning that if one of us wanted out, it would be over. I want out Mohinder. I want out and I want you out.”
I pressed the heels of my hand against my eyes in frustration, pushing until I saw flashing lights behind my eyes, “Why? Why…when did this happen?”
“It doesn’t matter Mohinder; I want out,” he snapped with barely restrained anger.
I’ve never been afraid of Matthew. Not for one moment in our entire life together, but at his tone, dark and full of hateful anger, I took a step back.
“I want out Mohinder,” he said, voice and eyes softening as he stepped forward to take my hands in a gentle grasp, “Please Mohinder, just trust me on this. Please come home with me.”
I glanced helplessly at Bennet who had remained silent for the duration of the argument, trying to figure out how thing had gotten so out of control. His face remained impassive, his eyes hidden behind the trademark horn-rimmed glasses.
I was near frantic. “B-but I finally made some progress Matthew. Not that much, but some. I really think that it just might be possible, that I might be able to do it. It is possible and I can do it. We can do it. We can destroy Sylar for good and this time there won’t be any coming back. He can’t hurt us anymore, can’t hurt Molly anymore.” I felt him trying to take his hands away and I grabbed them tighter, “Please Matthew, don’t do this. We are so close to finally being free. Don’t you understand? We are so close Matthew.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously and he viciously wrenched his hands out of mine. He roughly thrust my bag at me, forcing me to take a step back to maintain my balance. He threw Bennet one last malevolent glare before turning around and stomping away.
“Matthew,” I called after him pleadingly.
He whipped around, face twisted with so much rage I took another step back, “You know I could force you to stop. It would be so easy for me to tell you to stop, to leave all this alone and come home with me. I could and it would be so incredibly easy Mohinder. You want to know why I won’t? Because you asked me not to and I made you a promise; just like you made me a promise. I promised you that I wouldn’t use my ability against you unless you told me it was okay. I keep my promises Mohinder. You should really try it, maybe you’d actually be able to keep the people who really care about you.”
I could only watch helplessly as he stormed out, slamming the door so hard the hinges rattled after him. I was confused and hurt and had no idea where this maelstrom of anger came from. I knew that Matthew wasn’t happy with my decision but this was too much. It just came out of nowhere. I turned to where Bennet still stood. I saw the flash of smug accomplishment on his face before he slipped his bored mask back on.
“What did you do?” I asked him, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Nothing,” Bennet lied.
And what a good liar he was. Convincing liar. Good thing I learned more than how to shoot a gun from the last time we worked together or I might actually believe him.
“What did you do?” I reiterated, this time with more force.
He gave a long-suffering sigh, “Parkman might have picked up on a few of my thoughts that I would rather he not have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked suspiciously.
“I got a lead on Sylar. The problem with the plan is that it’s going to be much more difficult than I anticipated to lure him back to New York City. Parkman probably heard me thinking about that.”
“And why would that upset him so much?”
“Because it mean we’re going to have to break one of his rules. We need you Mohinder. You’re the only good enough reason we have that would convince Sylar to come back. We need to use you as bait.”
I nodded slowly, everything clicking into place. Of course Matthew would be upset if he picked up on that thought. Last time we encountered Sylar, he put me in the hospital for two weeks. Matthew still felt guilty about that, as if he should have been able to do something to protect me. If Bennet was thinking about using me to lure Sylar here I’m just surprised he didn’t follow through with his threat and shoot him.
“That’s unacceptable,” I said, “I won’t be used as bait. Why do we have to bring him back here to begin with? Why can’t we just go to him?”
Bennet looked uncomfortable for half-a-second, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond, but his confidence soon returned, “Because he never stays in one place to long enough. It was hard enough to get this lead on him. When we do manage to pinpoint his location, we can’t afford to take the chance that we won’t be quick enough or we won’t be convincing enough. Mohinder, we need to do this if we want to have any hope of getting to Sylar. You know as well as I do that this is the only plan that has any hope of working.”
I turned away from him in silence. A part of me always knew this was coming, always knew that there was no way to avoid it. Sylar was smart enough to stay away from New York but for whatever reason he was determined to make me suffer. Give him the opportunity to hurt me and he would come running. I had been trying to deny it since the beginning because I didn’t want to face him again and I knew how much it would upset Matthew. However, Bennet was right and it couldn’t be avoided.
I turned back to him resignedly, “Very well Bennet but you have to give us a warning in advance, well in advance, so we can get Molly to safety.”
“What about Parkman?”
“I have no doubt that Matthew will insist on being there and I’m not too inclined to deny him. He’ll be there to make sure everything goes as planned and nothing, nothing, goes wrong.”
He paused for a minute before nodding his assent.
If I didn’t know better I would suspect that Bennet was disappointed in that fact. If I didn’t know better I would say that he was hoping to cause a rift between Matthew and I so much so that he would not want anything to do with me. If I didn’t know better I would say that Bennet did not want Matthew there to watch over me.
But I know better.
I made a note to watch Bennet more closely and make sure he stays away from Matthew. He caused enough damage tonight and I didn’t want him to be able to cause any irreparable damage.
“I need to get home,” I said abruptly.
He nodded, turned, and walked out the door. Just like that I was alone again. I needed to get home so I could bridge the chasm between Matthew and me and make it right but I couldn’t force my feet to move. I collapsed in a pathetic heap on the floor, struggling to breathe as I felt my chest constrict with what felt like a panic attack. I felt like my entire world was spiraling out of control and every time I tried to reach out, tried to hold onto something, my fingers slipped and I was falling, falling, falling; never stopping until I reached a bottom I couldn’t see but instinctively knew was hard and rough and filled with the sharp spikes of emptiness and loneliness.
Matthew was angry with me. More than that, he doubted me. Doubted my sincerity, my trust, my loyalty, my devotion to him. Doubted my love for him. If I couldn’t convince him to stay, that there was nothing more important to me than him and Molly, I could lose him and her forever.
I grabbed my bag and ran out, slamming the door shut and quickly punching in the alarm code to arm it. I threw my hand up in the air to hail a cab and spent the whole ride home silently entreating the driver to go just a little bit faster, run that yellow light so I could get home sooner. It had been over an hour since Matthew had left the lab and I was desperately hoping he was still home. The sun was going down as I unlocked the apartment door and the first thing I noticed was how dark it was. The rooms were cast in dusky shadows; not a single light to illuminate the darkened corners.
Then I noticed the silence. It was quiet and Molly hadn’t come running out of the living room or her room to greet me. Matthew didn’t have the television blaring from the living room, tuned to some kind of cop show that he wasn’t even paying attention to because Molly was doing something too adorable not to watch.
Then I noticed the blinking red light of the answering machine on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.
I slowly made my way over to the little box, dropping my bag to land with a dull thud on the floor along the way, and pressed the button. I ignored the message from Bob asking for an update and the message from Matthew’s sergeant telling him he needed that Marquez report done. Then I heard Matthew’s voice, drowning out all the noises from the street below.
I’m taking Molly somewhere safe. I love you Mohinder but I’m not going to let you bring me or Molly down with you. If you change your mind, you know how to find us.
.
.
.
Molly says she loves you and wants you to come home.
The beep that followed the message sound deafening in the resounding silence of the tiny apartment.
I backed up until my knees hit the kitchen chair behind me, sitting down heavily. How could this happen? Wasn’t it just yesterday I was taking Molly to get ice cream because she did so well on her math exam? Wasn’t it just yesterday I was trying to teach Matthew and Molly how to make banana pancakes? Wasn’t it just yesterday Matthew was waking me up a few minutes before the alarm was set to go off with soft kisses along my jaw, a far better way to wake up than the annoying beep of the alarm clock? How could it have been just yesterday that we have been a happy family and today I be sitting in our kitchen, alone but for a brief message on the answering machine and some files from work?
I forced myself to stand up and fill the kettle with water for tea, filling my cup partially with chai and soy milk. In the end I couldn’t drink it. Just the smell had my stomach rolling in protest. I decided to just take a shower and go to bed early. I showered quickly. I kept expecting Molly to come banging on the door because she had to use the bathroom and no she can’t wait or Matthew to come in, telling me that I was using all the hot water and if I was going to be in there so long I was going to be getting a most welcome guest.
I didn’t want to go to bed and instead ended up on the couch, reviewing files that I didn’t really see or even care about. I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping. It didn’t feel right without telling Molly her bedtime story and kissing her goodnight or grinning up at Matthew as I kissed away the little blue spot of foamy spittle on his chin while we brushed our teeth together. Nothing felt right anymore. The apartment was empty and hollow, colder than I remembered
Before I knew what I was doing, I was punching in the code at the lab to let myself in. I had my supplies out, my beakers filled, the virus out, and the computer I had been trying not to destroy just a few short hours earlier on and in front of me before I realized that I was back at work. Without anyone waiting at home for me, without anyone to worry when I came home late without calling, I had no reason to leave the lab. I could stay as long as I needed without feeling guilty about causing my daughter undue worry and my partner more stress than he already has. Without distractions I had a better chance of succeeding faster and putting Bennet’s plan into motion sooner and finally getting rid of Sylar for good.
Is it worth it?
I slumped away from the computer screen, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. An image of Molly’s happy face, bright smile shining with joy, as Matthew bear hugged her after coming home from work, rumpled and tired but still grinning at me over her hair flashed through my mind and I knew the answer. I turned back to my work with renewed fervor, determined to finish this once and for all.
For them.