Heroes fic: How You Sleep (5/12?)
Title: How You Sleep - Chapter 5: Breakthrough (5/12?)
Series: Heroes
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: R
Warnings: Mpreg! BS science! Fairly dark! Consent issues!
Summary: After being doused with the complete formula, Mohinder copes with a lingering side effect as he and everyone around him try to rebuild their lives and their trust.
Author's Note: Oh, yeah, this beast is still going.
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
When Mohinder tried to turn on the laptop recovered from the storage unit, not a single light flickered. Bennet had a new laptop sent to his room-- Mohinder presumed at Peter's suggestion-- but Mohinder was wary of using it. Of course, even his old laptop would have been connected to the Agency network, so he resigned himself to using the new one. He hadn't yet contacted Rebel about the back-up of his files, so he spent much of his free time poring over pregnancy information.
He did send some email. He'd created a new private email address while staying with the Petrellis so he could contact Maya and let her know he was okay. They'd sent messages back and forth since then, consisting mostly of Mohinder faking optimism about his situation and Maya updating him on her job search efforts. He did finally admit to anxiety about the new Company despite nothing nefarious happening, and he felt touched when Maya urged him he to come back to Iowa if he didn't feel safe.
He couldn't really send messages to Rebel; Rebel's email had never come from an actual address. The mysterious benefactor was like a presence that simply moved into the account he'd set up for Mohinder and contacted him that way. Mohinder left a draft in that account letting Rebel know his new address, and he'd yet to hear anything.
Mohinder broke his promise to Matt; he sent Molly an email to tell her he was safe and confirm being in Virginia. He decided not to specify why. He promised to call and explain soon, and he sent his love to her and his mother. Matt didn't appreciate that Mohinder compromised on his word, but his new position kept him occupied enough that he didn't find a lot time for scolding. Mohinder knew he deserved it; he would never discover magical words that could gently break the news of his pregnancy to Molly, much less his mother.
Considering that Mohinder had managed to confess about Sylar to Peter, telling his mother about his fragile condition should have been easy. But then, Peter had an ability himself and had likely seen more impossibilities than Mohinder, so it was easier for him to accept another fantastic situation. While Mohinder's mother did know about specials-- he'd told her rather hastily before sending Molly to India-- she had so little direct experience that Mohinder doubted she would take the news well. Each day he pledged to make the promised call, only to loathe his cowardice by bedtime.
The emotional battle was a backdrop to his new routine. He woke around eight, showered and dressed, and headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. Darla usually joined him with a cup of coffee and questions about how he felt that day, and then she'd just prattle on. Mohinder tried to stay engaged; her chitchat was better than wondering whether or not other employees noticed anything off about him. When he finished eating, Darla returned to her desk and Mohinder retreated upstairs to his room, where he kept the door open at the request of the day nurse, Marian, since there was no window into the hallway. He'd spend the rest of the morning struggling to read scientific journals, either in actual books or online, as he tried to keep his mind occupied with something other than the pregnancy. Inevitably he'd end up surfing the web to obsess over possible upcoming symptoms or how big he might get or all the complications that could plague normal pregnancies.
At least once a day, his inbox notified him that he had a message from Molly. He'd read but not answer.
Peter came by for lunch, and Matt usually joined them. If Peter hadn't called beforehand to see if Mohinder had any cravings, they'd eat in the cafeteria. Mohinder always steered conversations to Peter's and Matt's new jobs. Peter always tried to steer them back to Mohinder's health, and Matt to Molly. Matt would call her every few days, and he made it plain that he would only fend off her questions about Mohinder for so long.
Afternoons and evenings were much the same as the mornings, unless Dr. Stevenson wanted to see him. Darla showed up at dinner like she did at breakfast, only she actually ate with him. She took the opportunity to talk about her children and seemed extra chipper, as if to emphasize what Mohinder had to look forward to.
The night nurse, Emilia, had no problem with him closing the door. He usually fell asleep by midnight, but never looked forward to rest. His confession to Peter had stirred the memories he'd tried to forget, and they spilled over into his dreams. It always felt so real: Sylar's arms around him, his own fingers digging into Sylar's shoulder and weaving into his hair, Sylar's harsh breath against his throat. At once Mohinder was overtaken by unforgiving shame and the abject pleasure of getting (taking) just what he needed. They would come, one after the other, and Mohinder would reward Sylar with kisses and touches as he waited for him to be ready again.
Sometimes when Mohinder woke up, he thought of what Peter said back at the manor about benefiting from a psychologist. But then Mohinder wasn't sure he wanted to know Peter's thoughts on his confession, much less those of a stranger.
@ @ @ @ @
After two weeks at the Agency, Mohinder hadn't heard any news on a specialist. He felt hopeful when his room phone rang during lunch and Bennet's name showed on the display. Matt and Peter were busy wolfing down Italian subs as Mohinder answered.
"How are you today, Suresh?" Bennet asked.
Mohinder rolled his eyes. "As well as I can be," he hinted. He'd barely seen Bennet since the first day and imagined him filling out forms in his office with their conversation as background noise.
"I agreed to tell you when the confidentiality of your situation changes."
Mohinder huffed. "Who now? The security guards?"
"Claire is coming down to apologize to you."
"... Claire?!"
"I have a meeting. Have a good day."
"Bennet!" Mohinder exclaimed, but the other man had hung up. Mohinder slammed the phone down, and the receiver cracked in half.
Peter stared at it. "Uh, I'm sorry, what's happening?" he managed to say around a mouthful of sandwich.
"I've completely lost any semblance of privacy," Mohinder growled.
"Claire knows?" Matt said.
"Well," Peter said after swallowing, "that's not terrible. It's not like Claire doesn't know how to keep a secret."
"Oh, well, of course, if you don't think it's a big deal, I'm overreacting!" Mohinder snapped.
"It could be worse, is all I'm--"
"Can I have a say in how bad it is?" Mohinder interrupted. "Considering that I'm the one with a child gestating inside him, I'm the one who has to hide in this damn building for months, I'm the one who has to experience the humiliation of looking ridiculous, I'm the--"
"The one dealing with see-sawing hormones?" Matt said. "Mohinder, it's going to be okay, and you look fine."
"My stomach is huge!" Mohinder shouted. "My hands and feel are starting to swell, and so is my face--"
"Mohinder," Peter said, "you look fine!" He smiled a little. "Yeah, you have the stomach, but you look just as devilishly handsome as always."
"This isn't funny, Peter."
Peter's smile dropped. "I didn't--"
"Do you think it's easy when your body isn't your own anymore?"
"I didn't--!"
Matt grabbed Peter's arm. "I think Mohinder needs time to cool off."
Peter ignored him. "This is just a mood swing, Mohinder. Relax!"
"Just a mood-- Could you take me seriously for one moment?" Mohinder snapped.
"Not when you're overreact--"
"Get out!!" Mohinder demanded, throwing up his arms.
"On our way," Matt said quickly, dragging Peter out the door.
Mohinder wanted to throw their sandwiches at them, but then what did he expect? No one could understand what he was going through, not even a woman, because a woman was supposed to get pregnant, because she could go outside without drawing incredulous stares. She could get an obstetrician right away and could know if the pregnancy was going well at all. A woman had to worry about devastating medical conditions, sure, but did she worry that her body had passed on monstrous physical traits that would be entirely her fault?
He saw movement in the doorway and grabbed a hardback off his bedside table. "I told you--"
Claire stared at the book, held over Mohinder's head. "Hey," she said, "I've never been killed with a bestseller lodged between the eyes before."
Mohinder set the book down. "Empty threat," he said guiltily.
"I bet."
He bristled. "So your father decided to clue you in on the sideshow?" he asked, opening his arms around his stomach. "Come one, come all."
"Uh, no," Claire said, returning his attitude at first, then growing sheepish. "I was kinda... snooping around Dad's apartment. He had your file."
"Out in the open."
"It might've been in a drawer that might've been locked." She folded her arms and made minimal eye contact.
Mohinder frowned. "Why would you--"
"I know!" she burst. "It was wrong, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't want somebody reading my medical stuff either, but I didn't know what I'd find. I was just flipping through all kinds of things and there it was, and... yeah."
"What were you looking for?"
She sighed and pulled over the chair. "I dunno. Anything that might, you know, be bad." She glanced at him. "You can't really blame me."
Certainly not with his own paranoia. "I suppose not." He paused. "Did you find anything?"
"Well, I didn't find any crazy plans to blow up the capital to bring everyone together in peace and harmony." She swayed briefly in mock serenity at the last words. "Or anything like that." She eyed him. "Have you noticed anything funny going on here?"
"No," he admitted. He felt uneasy talking to her like this. "I think your father expects my suspicion. I doubt he appreciates yours."
Claire laughed. "Before, it was like every time I turned around he was up to something. He knows I can't just trust him blindly anymore." She propped her elbow on her knee and cupped her chin. "He does seem like he's trying to change that. He talks about being here a lot. Not in specifics, but he acts like he wants me to know he's doing his best."
"But you don't think he's changed."
She shrugged. "I had reservations when he first told me about this place, but so far there's been nothing to back them up." She glanced at Mohinder's stomach. "He really is keeping tabs on you. He had a lot of reports and files and notes about picking a doctor. It's like he's, like... concerned."
Mohinder shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. Well. I am a responsibility."
Claire smiled. "Well, yeah, we are talking about a baby." She cocked her head. "You excited?"
"This isn't a normal pregnancy, Claire. I have no idea how this will turn out."
"Wouldn't be the first time you've been in a tight situation. At least you're in a place with doctors and protection."
"Didn't we just establish a lack of trust?"
"And I just said I haven't found a reason for it so far. Why worry until you have to?" She smirked. "And even pregnant, you can probably kick some ass if you had to."
"I'm not sure what impact that kind of stress would put on the child."
She wrinkled her nose. "The 'child'? Could you sound any more clinical?"
"Forgive me if I'm not throwing myself headfirst into the oddity I've made myself," he snapped. "Do you expect me to be flipping through baby catalogs?"
Claire didn't break her gaze. "You're worrying like hell, huh?" The smile returned. "Well, I really don't think Dad is looking to make you and the baby into lab rats. I know you have some sketchy history, but I've known him longer than you have. I can't forget everything he's done but... I think he really does want this place to be the real deal. It's hard to picture him going back to what he did before, not when he lived the consequences."
"Sketchy history?" Mohinder repeated. "Claire, I shot your father right in front of you."
Her smile fell, and she sat back. "Yeah. I remember."
"I'm surprised you've sat here for this long."
"You were in a bad position," she said, looking at her hands. "I mean, at the time, obviously, I didn't get why you were protecting Bob and Elle. But I got to know Elle a little, later on, and I know Dad's hard to trust, so..." She shrugged again. "And you did bring him back."
Mohinder didn't say that he hadn't known for sure if her blood would revive Bennet.
"Elle wasn't so bad," Claire went on. "I mean, yeah, she wasn't the most stable person, but if things had been different..."
"You know how she..."
"Yeah, I know what happened."
Sylar had run off with Elle in some brief Bonnie and Clyde jaunt. It only made Sylar's supposed devotion even more ridiculous and Mohinder's continued preoccupation with implausible what-ifs even more ridiculous than that.
"But if we get this right," Claire said, almost to herself, "there won't be any more Elles. And we can stop more Sylars, by sticking together."
"Everything on the right track," Mohinder said. "You sound like Peter."
"It's the right idea, isn't it?" She got to her feet. "I gotta get back upstairs. I'm supposed to catch Nathan before he leaves for some fundraiser or luncheon or something."
"Alright."
She held out her hand. "No hard feelings on the snooping?"
He enveloped her hand in his and shook. "All things considered, it would be poor of me to hold a grudge."
She went to leave but paused at the door, her eyebrows raised. "By the way, yeah, you probably should be flipping through baby catalogs."
@ @ @ @ @
When Mohinder returned to his room after dinner, he was surprised to find Peter sitting in the bedside chair with a square, pastel green tin in his lap. Peter pushed it at him.
"I've been around the maternity ward at work, and one of the ladies recommended this," he said. "It's tea, kinds that are supposed to be good for pregnancies. No caffeine."
Mohinder's face heated up as he recalled his earlier behavior all too clearly. "Peter, you didn't have to," he protested.
"It might help you feel better," Peter said. He popped off the lid and flipped through the packages. "This kind is supposed to help you relax, and this is for intestinal cramps, and this one is for nausea, and this... helps uterine contractions. You probably don't need that one."
"Thank you, Peter. This is very kind." Mohinder replaced the lid and set the tin down. "But you don't need to walk on eggshells around me and excuse my tantrums." He had a thought. "It's oddly husband-like."
Peter grinned. "Hey, then I got me a smart one. And I still say you're a looker."
This time at Peter's praises, Mohinder broke into laughter. "Oh, darling, you're so good to me," he chuckled, rolling his eyes.
"You deserve it," Peter replied. His eyes fell on Mohinder's laptop, left open on the meal tray. "Hey, you shouldn't leave that logged on when you're out."
Mohinder sat on the bed and pulled the tray over. "I didn't--" He stopped when he read a window in the middle of the screen displaying simple text. Capslocked text. "Took him long enough," he muttered.
"What? Who?" Peter sat beside him and looked at the screen.
REBEL: HELLO? ANYBODY HOME?
"It's our friend," Mohinder said. "I was worried that he'd..." He shook his head and typed.
msuresh: I was starting to wonder if you were still being pursued. Your skills are advantageous.
REBEL: WELL, I AM, IN A WAY.
BENNET ASKED ME to CONSULT ON CYBER SECURITY. :)
"That guy gets around," Peter said.
msuresh: I guess you forgive easily.
REBEL: I'M YOUNG, REMEMBER?
AND HAVING AN HQ IS A GOOD IDEA.
AND TO BE GOVERNMENT-FUNDED, NOT GOVERNMENT-HUNTED.
msuresh: Yes, I know.
REBEL: MAYBE YOU COULD HELP CONVINCE MAYA THEN.
msuresh: You need her out of the house?
REBEL: NO, IT'S JUST BETTER IF SHE CAN TRUST.
SHE CAN STAY.
I'M JUST GONNA GIVE HER THE HOUSE.
"Uh, wow." Peter scratched his head. "Rebel's got quite the selfless streak going."
"He has to want something," Mohinder said. "Who just gives up a house?"
"He hasn't asked anything from you for his help, has he?" Peter pointed out.
"No, but..." Mohinder couldn't believe in that level of altruism.
msuresh: Do you know us? Why are you being so generous?
REBEL: NEVER MET MAYA.
BUT I KNOW THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO HER.
SHE NEEDS THE HOUSE MORE THAN ME.
msuresh: And what about me?
The reply took about a minute to show up.
REBEL: I DO KNOW YOU.
I STILL WOULD'VE HELPED IF I DIDN'T.
BUT I WANTED TO REPAY YOU.
msuresh: For what?
REBEL: NIKI SANDERS.
msuresh: What do you mean?
Niki never got the Shanti cure.
I was sidelined trying to get it to her and it was stolen.
She died before I could create another batch.
REBEL: SHE WOULD HAVE LIVED FOR YOU TO CURE HER IF IT HADN'T BEEN FOR ME.
"Who's Niki Sanders?" Peter asked.
"Do you remember the woman who attacked Sylar at Kirby Plaza?" Mohinder said. "She had amazing strength and a personality disorder to go with it. The Company assigned her to work with me after they helped her cope with it. She contracted the Shanti virus, but she died in a fire trying to rescue family from thugs."
"And you think this is the family?"
"Her son has technopathy." Mohinder felt his eyes burn. "He's Molly's age."
msuresh: Micah, you never should have gotten involved in any of this.
REBEL: IT'S NOT RIGHT TO STAND BY IF YOU CAN HELP.
AND I HELPED A LOT.
msuresh: You could have been killed.
Sylar was helping them. What if he'd gotten to you?
REBEL: SYLAR WASN'T WITHOUT HIS OWN WEAKNESSES
msuresh: What does that mean?
REBEL: YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME.
I THOUGHT FOR A WHILE TOO THAT I SHOULDN'T GET IN OVER MY HEAD.
AFTER MOM.
BUT WITH GREAT POWER COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY.
msuresh: Life isn't a comic book.
REBEL: JUST BECAUSE IT'S IN A COMIC DOESN'T MEAN IT'S NOT TRUE.
I WON'T BE JUST A BYSTANDER.
IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'VE NEVER TAKEN ACTION.
msuresh: I'm an adult.
REBEL: I'M NOT MUCH OF A KID ANYMORE.
I HAVE TO GO.
NANA NEEDS HELP WITH SUPPER.
msuresh: Wait.
Your mother's death wasn't your fault.
REBEL: I KNOW YOU WANT ME TO FEEL OKAY
BUT YOU WEREN'T THERE. I WAS.
WE HAVE TO LEARN FROM OUR MISTAKES.
GOOD NIGHT, MOHINDER.
The window vanished in a blink as Mohinder typed. He had managed to control his tears, and he took a trembling breath as his hands left the keys. "He's Molly's age," he said again.
"He had a point," Peter said. "If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have escaped Building 26 with Daphne. Matt's kid would've been taken. Other people would've been captured."
"It's just unfair," Mohinder burst.
"Yeah."
"You said Rebel was there when Tracy died. Tracy was Niki's sister. The boy has lost so much family right in front of him."
"I didn't know that," Peter said quietly. "That's terrible." They both sat in quiet until a beeping from Peter's pocket jarred them. He pulled his phone from his pocket and read a text. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "It's work."
Mohinder shook his head. "It's fine, Peter. They need you there. Sitting here with me doesn't help anyone."
"Look," Peter said, clapping Mohinder's shoulder as he got to his feet. "He's back with the family he does have now. Keep that in mind, okay?"
Mohinder nodded mechanically. "There's that."
After Peter left, Mohinder realized he'd never asked about his files, but they hardly seemed to matter, especially when his thoughts on Micah's family turned to his own.
@ @ @ @ @
Mohinder went to bed early and slept fitfully. He awoke again at almost eleven at night with a headache. It was a good a time as any to try Peter's teas, so he flipped through the tin and found a lemon balm packet that would apparently help him sleep. He grabbed a mug and headed downstairs.
The building was empty, save for some security guards, but the cafeteria remained open throughout the night. The workers were gone by nine, but the vending machines and hot water dispensers were left on. Still, Mohinder thought about buying a water boiler for his own room so he wouldn't have to come down every time he wanted tea-- and to avoid people in general.
Speaking of which, Bennet sat alone in the middle of the cafeteria. An array of papers covered his table, meant to seat four, with a coffee cup standing precariously on an exposed corner. Mohinder nodded to him as he filled his mug with water, but as he turned from the machine, Bennet spoke. "Mind if we talk?"
"Okay," Mohinder said. He took the seat across from Bennet. There was nowhere for his mug so he let it warm his hands as the tea bag soaked. "You're here late."
"Lots of work to do," Bennet said, setting down the papers he'd been reading. He took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "It's been a while since I've asked how you're doing here."
"Not much of a change to that answer since last time." Bennet seemed to mull over asking something more specific, staring blankly at his work, but Mohinder had his own question. "How long have you known who Rebel is?"
Bennet sat back. He didn't look remotely surprised. "I had my suspicions. When we started the Agency, I just called his grandmother's house and asked."
"A child shouldn't be involved in the Agency."
"He's too idealistic to let his age stop him, and he's not just a child."
"You know better than to encourage him."
"Micah has done much more than some security consultation without my approval," Bennet replied. "I think he's coped with his foray into espionage better than expected."
Mohinder didn't know if Bennet intended it, but he heard the unspoken phrase better than you did. The reminder didn't make him feel angry; he felt uncomfortable. Claire was closer to adopting the let's-move-on attitude than he was. However "even" he and Bennet might be, he couldn't let go of putting a bullet in the man's head.
"Noah," he started, fixing his eyes on the soft color of his tea, "we've never really discussed the aftermath of our foray into espionage."
"I think your message came across loud and clear."
Mohinder looked up, unamused. "Oh, yes, I was very cognizant of what I was doing. No confusion, no rival purposes..."
"What do you want me to say?" Bennet said. "You shot me, I abducted you. There's some nuance in there, but we're both alive and safe now."
"Yes, but... I just..."
Bennet waited patiently.
"Maybe it was all I could think to do at the time, but I regret that I couldn't think of something else, like hitting you in the leg instead. Not that I really intended to aim so well-- it was luck more than anything-- but still, I just want to apologize."
"You're sorry."
"Yes."
"For shooting me in the face."
Mohinder grimaced. "Yes."
"Instead of the leg," Bennet said with a smile.
Mohinder was momentarily dumbfounded, but at once he and Bennet broke into laughter. "Yes," Mohinder said again.
"Apology accepted," Bennet said, raising his coffee. "And I'm sorry I was a poor espionage partner and for kidnapping you."
Mohinder was still laughing as they clinked their mugs. "Excellent." He sipped his tea and shook his head. "Did you ever think you'd exchange such apologies?"
"No," Bennet said, setting his coffee back down, "but I think it's better that I am."
"I do believe apologies stray from the 'morally gray' philosophy."
Bennet smiled crookedly as he took a sip of coffee. "You sound just as fond of that phrase as the first time you heard it." He put down his cup. "Nowadays, I like to think of myself as... well-intentioned."
"Which would be what? Morally iridescent?"
Bennet laughed. "I suppose. It'll go better with my colorful personality."
Mohinder could feel his headache easing. He looked over the tablecloth Bennet had patched together. "So what are you doing, exactly?"
"I'm preparing a presentation about our proposed budget," Bennet replied. "It's actually a more alien concept than apologies."
"I suppose so, when you always had Bob's talent at your disposal."
"I don't think arguing for money will be too impossible, though. I do have my own persuasive talents."
"Don't take this too harshly," Mohinder said, "but at the Company, did you do anything that didn't involve a gun?"
"I can be charming," Bennet replied. "I actually sold cars in my younger days."
"How long ago was that?" Mohinder couldn't help but ask. He continued quickly at Bennet's dark look. "Look, I've had to grovel for money for genetics research, so I'm not inept at this."
Bennet nodded slightly. "Okay. Do you want to look at these forms and give me any pointers?"
Mohinder agreed to help, eager for something different to do. He borrowed one of Bennet's pencils and picked a stack of papers. It'd been years since he begged for grants, but each summary and spreadsheet brought him further into that money-grubbing headspace. Bennet had compiled all the necessary information fairly well, but Mohinder still jotted notes in each margin, voicing any concern that couldn't be encapsulated in a few phrases.
"Can't you push back this results reporting for the labs?" he asked. "You have very few projects listed here."
"Which is why they want frequent reports-- to be sure they're getting something in return," Bennet said. "But I might be able to push on it a bit."
"Who are you reporting to?"
"We lucked out there," Bennet said. He pointed out a page listing staff at the Agency. "Our government liaison is Lauren Gilmore, a former Company agent."
"That's some luck."
"Just luck in that when she moved on, she developed ties with the executive branch. I contacted her so we could make sure she maneuvered into this job."
"Does she know about me?"
"Not yet."
Mohinder looked through the rest of the list. "You still have quite a few blank spots."
"That's what happens when they rush operations like this."
"Yes, but I'm saying you should at least include the names and credentials of the best prospects for each position. You should leave as little room as possible for the people with the purses to draw their own conclusions."
Bennet nodded. "Am I including your name?"
"Bennet."
"I figured you for Director of the Research Department at first, but I think it'd be more beneficial if you stayed hands-on as Lead Researcher. We'd boot out the current guy; I'm not really fond of him. Not sure if it's because he lacks the accent or the grating earnestness."
"I think I have bigger concerns than your labs at the moment."
"I just want you to keep it under consideration. Do you really want to go back to teach in India after everything you've seen?"
"I think you underestimate the appeal of a quiet life, especially with a child."
"This is a changing world," Bennet said. "I know things have been rough, but you can't just ignore it." He hesitated. "We're not going to be able to keep this a secret forever."
"I'm tired," Mohinder said, getting to his feet.
"Don't you think your child should grow up around other specials?"
"Depends on which ones," Mohinder replied. "And it's not necessarily the specials I'm worried about."
Bennet leaned back in his chair, gazing over the papers. "I understand."
Mohinder found himself hoping this turn to their conversation didn't erase the progress they'd made at the start. Perhaps he did want to move on like Peter and Claire after all.
"Look," Bennet said, "I'm going to expand the permissions on your ID card and user profile. If you change your mind or if you just get paranoid, feel free to have a look around. I think you want to help more than you'll let yourself believe."
"It's not the desire I'm having trouble with. It's the judgments made here."
"Then I hope you're comfortable with other people making them."
Mohinder heard a racket behind him and turned. By the cafeteria entrance, Nathan had barreled into a table, slamming it against the wall and knocking chairs askew. He slapped his palms onto the table to keep from collapsing and pushed himself back up. He attempted to sort himself, running his hands through his mussed hair and trying to tighten his tie even though the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. His jacket was missing.
"Nathan?" Mohinder said.
Nathan blinked and looked around the cafeteria. "Hey."
"Are you okay?" Bennet asked.
"I, uh..."
"Are you drunk?" Mohinder asked incredulously, wrinkling his nose. What an assuring example of professionalism to have in charge of his healthcare.
Nathan looked around the room again. "No, I just... I'm trying to hold everything... steady..."
Mohinder glanced back at Bennet, expecting to share a look of bemusement, but Bennet kept his eyes on Nathan. "I thought you were meeting with Matt," Bennet said.
"Yeah, but... he... I'm not supposed to be here," Nathan said.
"Yes, you should be at home in bed," Mohinder replied dryly. "Is Matt stumbling around, too?" He remembered Matt trying to cajole him once or twice into a drinking competition when they lived together. It seemed likely that such a contest had gone predictably awry.
Matt himself appeared then, out of breath with his own tie loosened, but he didn't look disheveled like Nathan. "Sorry," Matt said. "I thought we'd keep it to a few drinks upstairs." He patted Nathan's back, and Nathan jerked away from him. Matt laughed uneasily. "I guess the senator's a wandering drunk."
"You seem fine," Mohinder observed.
"I have a higher threshold."
Than a man who was in the navy? Mohinder supposed he should be impressed.
"Come on, Nathan," Matt said, taking the inebriated man's arm. "How about you sleep this off?"
Nathan tried to pull away, but he was otherwise engaged with hanging his head and rubbing at his temple. "No, I... I'll forget..."
"Forget what?" Mohinder asked, not expecting much of an answer.
And he didn't get one. Nathan stared at him for a moment, but the memory he was struggling for was evidently long gone. "I don't know," he said.
"I'm sure it's something you'd like to forget," Matt said steadily, pulling again.
Nathan started to go with him, then abruptly stopped. "Wait!" he cried, pointing at Mohinder-- or rather, at Mohinder's stomach. "The baby!"
"Yes?" Mohinder said impatiently.
"How is it?"
"You know it's fine," Bennet said. "Matt, go on, or he'll be rambling all night."
Nathan mumbled as Matt led him out of sight. It sounded like, "That's good. That's important."
"I hope if Nathan participates in these meetings, he does it sober," Mohinder said. "I don't think he has enough political clout for people to ignore burgeoning alcoholism."
Bennet arranged his papers into stacks. "This is the first I've seen him like that. He'll be his usual in the morning."
"Goodie." Mohinder watched Bennet pull his briefcase from under the table and put the papers inside. "Don't you have more to do?"
"I'll take it upstairs, in case Matt needs help."
Mohinder followed Bennet out of the cafeteria. "I think you're a little busy to bother with that," he said. "I could check on them."
Bennet glanced at him as they walked side-by-side. "What, are you bored?"
"There's only so much to do around here." Mohinder shifted his shoulders, trying to ease a crick in his back. "Especially when your mobility is more limited as the days go by."
Bennet smirked. "Feel free to snoop around the research database with your new security clearance then."
Mohinder glared at him as they stepped onto the elevator, irrationally feeling like Bennet was slipping strains of cabin fever into his food. Bennet was unfazed by the look, of course, and pushed the buttons for the fourth and sixth floors. He pulled a smartphone from his pocket and fiddled with it quietly.
At the first stop, Bennet made a pleased noise as he stared at the screen. "Background check is done. I can add another name to the staff list."
"Oh?" Mohinder said as he stepped out, but he held the doors open so Bennet could finish.
"Dr. Joanna Sokolowski, your specialist. I'll just get Nathan to sign off on it, and we should have her in here next week."
Mohinder couldn't help but smile. "That's excellent news."
Bennet nodded and waved Mohinder off. "I'll forward her CV to you, and you can obsessively google her to your heart's content."
Series: Heroes
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: R
Warnings: Mpreg! BS science! Fairly dark! Consent issues!
Summary: After being doused with the complete formula, Mohinder copes with a lingering side effect as he and everyone around him try to rebuild their lives and their trust.
Author's Note: Oh, yeah, this beast is still going.
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
When Mohinder tried to turn on the laptop recovered from the storage unit, not a single light flickered. Bennet had a new laptop sent to his room-- Mohinder presumed at Peter's suggestion-- but Mohinder was wary of using it. Of course, even his old laptop would have been connected to the Agency network, so he resigned himself to using the new one. He hadn't yet contacted Rebel about the back-up of his files, so he spent much of his free time poring over pregnancy information.
He did send some email. He'd created a new private email address while staying with the Petrellis so he could contact Maya and let her know he was okay. They'd sent messages back and forth since then, consisting mostly of Mohinder faking optimism about his situation and Maya updating him on her job search efforts. He did finally admit to anxiety about the new Company despite nothing nefarious happening, and he felt touched when Maya urged him he to come back to Iowa if he didn't feel safe.
He couldn't really send messages to Rebel; Rebel's email had never come from an actual address. The mysterious benefactor was like a presence that simply moved into the account he'd set up for Mohinder and contacted him that way. Mohinder left a draft in that account letting Rebel know his new address, and he'd yet to hear anything.
Mohinder broke his promise to Matt; he sent Molly an email to tell her he was safe and confirm being in Virginia. He decided not to specify why. He promised to call and explain soon, and he sent his love to her and his mother. Matt didn't appreciate that Mohinder compromised on his word, but his new position kept him occupied enough that he didn't find a lot time for scolding. Mohinder knew he deserved it; he would never discover magical words that could gently break the news of his pregnancy to Molly, much less his mother.
Considering that Mohinder had managed to confess about Sylar to Peter, telling his mother about his fragile condition should have been easy. But then, Peter had an ability himself and had likely seen more impossibilities than Mohinder, so it was easier for him to accept another fantastic situation. While Mohinder's mother did know about specials-- he'd told her rather hastily before sending Molly to India-- she had so little direct experience that Mohinder doubted she would take the news well. Each day he pledged to make the promised call, only to loathe his cowardice by bedtime.
The emotional battle was a backdrop to his new routine. He woke around eight, showered and dressed, and headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. Darla usually joined him with a cup of coffee and questions about how he felt that day, and then she'd just prattle on. Mohinder tried to stay engaged; her chitchat was better than wondering whether or not other employees noticed anything off about him. When he finished eating, Darla returned to her desk and Mohinder retreated upstairs to his room, where he kept the door open at the request of the day nurse, Marian, since there was no window into the hallway. He'd spend the rest of the morning struggling to read scientific journals, either in actual books or online, as he tried to keep his mind occupied with something other than the pregnancy. Inevitably he'd end up surfing the web to obsess over possible upcoming symptoms or how big he might get or all the complications that could plague normal pregnancies.
At least once a day, his inbox notified him that he had a message from Molly. He'd read but not answer.
Peter came by for lunch, and Matt usually joined them. If Peter hadn't called beforehand to see if Mohinder had any cravings, they'd eat in the cafeteria. Mohinder always steered conversations to Peter's and Matt's new jobs. Peter always tried to steer them back to Mohinder's health, and Matt to Molly. Matt would call her every few days, and he made it plain that he would only fend off her questions about Mohinder for so long.
Afternoons and evenings were much the same as the mornings, unless Dr. Stevenson wanted to see him. Darla showed up at dinner like she did at breakfast, only she actually ate with him. She took the opportunity to talk about her children and seemed extra chipper, as if to emphasize what Mohinder had to look forward to.
The night nurse, Emilia, had no problem with him closing the door. He usually fell asleep by midnight, but never looked forward to rest. His confession to Peter had stirred the memories he'd tried to forget, and they spilled over into his dreams. It always felt so real: Sylar's arms around him, his own fingers digging into Sylar's shoulder and weaving into his hair, Sylar's harsh breath against his throat. At once Mohinder was overtaken by unforgiving shame and the abject pleasure of getting (taking) just what he needed. They would come, one after the other, and Mohinder would reward Sylar with kisses and touches as he waited for him to be ready again.
Sometimes when Mohinder woke up, he thought of what Peter said back at the manor about benefiting from a psychologist. But then Mohinder wasn't sure he wanted to know Peter's thoughts on his confession, much less those of a stranger.
@ @ @ @ @
After two weeks at the Agency, Mohinder hadn't heard any news on a specialist. He felt hopeful when his room phone rang during lunch and Bennet's name showed on the display. Matt and Peter were busy wolfing down Italian subs as Mohinder answered.
"How are you today, Suresh?" Bennet asked.
Mohinder rolled his eyes. "As well as I can be," he hinted. He'd barely seen Bennet since the first day and imagined him filling out forms in his office with their conversation as background noise.
"I agreed to tell you when the confidentiality of your situation changes."
Mohinder huffed. "Who now? The security guards?"
"Claire is coming down to apologize to you."
"... Claire?!"
"I have a meeting. Have a good day."
"Bennet!" Mohinder exclaimed, but the other man had hung up. Mohinder slammed the phone down, and the receiver cracked in half.
Peter stared at it. "Uh, I'm sorry, what's happening?" he managed to say around a mouthful of sandwich.
"I've completely lost any semblance of privacy," Mohinder growled.
"Claire knows?" Matt said.
"Well," Peter said after swallowing, "that's not terrible. It's not like Claire doesn't know how to keep a secret."
"Oh, well, of course, if you don't think it's a big deal, I'm overreacting!" Mohinder snapped.
"It could be worse, is all I'm--"
"Can I have a say in how bad it is?" Mohinder interrupted. "Considering that I'm the one with a child gestating inside him, I'm the one who has to hide in this damn building for months, I'm the one who has to experience the humiliation of looking ridiculous, I'm the--"
"The one dealing with see-sawing hormones?" Matt said. "Mohinder, it's going to be okay, and you look fine."
"My stomach is huge!" Mohinder shouted. "My hands and feel are starting to swell, and so is my face--"
"Mohinder," Peter said, "you look fine!" He smiled a little. "Yeah, you have the stomach, but you look just as devilishly handsome as always."
"This isn't funny, Peter."
Peter's smile dropped. "I didn't--"
"Do you think it's easy when your body isn't your own anymore?"
"I didn't--!"
Matt grabbed Peter's arm. "I think Mohinder needs time to cool off."
Peter ignored him. "This is just a mood swing, Mohinder. Relax!"
"Just a mood-- Could you take me seriously for one moment?" Mohinder snapped.
"Not when you're overreact--"
"Get out!!" Mohinder demanded, throwing up his arms.
"On our way," Matt said quickly, dragging Peter out the door.
Mohinder wanted to throw their sandwiches at them, but then what did he expect? No one could understand what he was going through, not even a woman, because a woman was supposed to get pregnant, because she could go outside without drawing incredulous stares. She could get an obstetrician right away and could know if the pregnancy was going well at all. A woman had to worry about devastating medical conditions, sure, but did she worry that her body had passed on monstrous physical traits that would be entirely her fault?
He saw movement in the doorway and grabbed a hardback off his bedside table. "I told you--"
Claire stared at the book, held over Mohinder's head. "Hey," she said, "I've never been killed with a bestseller lodged between the eyes before."
Mohinder set the book down. "Empty threat," he said guiltily.
"I bet."
He bristled. "So your father decided to clue you in on the sideshow?" he asked, opening his arms around his stomach. "Come one, come all."
"Uh, no," Claire said, returning his attitude at first, then growing sheepish. "I was kinda... snooping around Dad's apartment. He had your file."
"Out in the open."
"It might've been in a drawer that might've been locked." She folded her arms and made minimal eye contact.
Mohinder frowned. "Why would you--"
"I know!" she burst. "It was wrong, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't want somebody reading my medical stuff either, but I didn't know what I'd find. I was just flipping through all kinds of things and there it was, and... yeah."
"What were you looking for?"
She sighed and pulled over the chair. "I dunno. Anything that might, you know, be bad." She glanced at him. "You can't really blame me."
Certainly not with his own paranoia. "I suppose not." He paused. "Did you find anything?"
"Well, I didn't find any crazy plans to blow up the capital to bring everyone together in peace and harmony." She swayed briefly in mock serenity at the last words. "Or anything like that." She eyed him. "Have you noticed anything funny going on here?"
"No," he admitted. He felt uneasy talking to her like this. "I think your father expects my suspicion. I doubt he appreciates yours."
Claire laughed. "Before, it was like every time I turned around he was up to something. He knows I can't just trust him blindly anymore." She propped her elbow on her knee and cupped her chin. "He does seem like he's trying to change that. He talks about being here a lot. Not in specifics, but he acts like he wants me to know he's doing his best."
"But you don't think he's changed."
She shrugged. "I had reservations when he first told me about this place, but so far there's been nothing to back them up." She glanced at Mohinder's stomach. "He really is keeping tabs on you. He had a lot of reports and files and notes about picking a doctor. It's like he's, like... concerned."
Mohinder shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. Well. I am a responsibility."
Claire smiled. "Well, yeah, we are talking about a baby." She cocked her head. "You excited?"
"This isn't a normal pregnancy, Claire. I have no idea how this will turn out."
"Wouldn't be the first time you've been in a tight situation. At least you're in a place with doctors and protection."
"Didn't we just establish a lack of trust?"
"And I just said I haven't found a reason for it so far. Why worry until you have to?" She smirked. "And even pregnant, you can probably kick some ass if you had to."
"I'm not sure what impact that kind of stress would put on the child."
She wrinkled her nose. "The 'child'? Could you sound any more clinical?"
"Forgive me if I'm not throwing myself headfirst into the oddity I've made myself," he snapped. "Do you expect me to be flipping through baby catalogs?"
Claire didn't break her gaze. "You're worrying like hell, huh?" The smile returned. "Well, I really don't think Dad is looking to make you and the baby into lab rats. I know you have some sketchy history, but I've known him longer than you have. I can't forget everything he's done but... I think he really does want this place to be the real deal. It's hard to picture him going back to what he did before, not when he lived the consequences."
"Sketchy history?" Mohinder repeated. "Claire, I shot your father right in front of you."
Her smile fell, and she sat back. "Yeah. I remember."
"I'm surprised you've sat here for this long."
"You were in a bad position," she said, looking at her hands. "I mean, at the time, obviously, I didn't get why you were protecting Bob and Elle. But I got to know Elle a little, later on, and I know Dad's hard to trust, so..." She shrugged again. "And you did bring him back."
Mohinder didn't say that he hadn't known for sure if her blood would revive Bennet.
"Elle wasn't so bad," Claire went on. "I mean, yeah, she wasn't the most stable person, but if things had been different..."
"You know how she..."
"Yeah, I know what happened."
Sylar had run off with Elle in some brief Bonnie and Clyde jaunt. It only made Sylar's supposed devotion even more ridiculous and Mohinder's continued preoccupation with implausible what-ifs even more ridiculous than that.
"But if we get this right," Claire said, almost to herself, "there won't be any more Elles. And we can stop more Sylars, by sticking together."
"Everything on the right track," Mohinder said. "You sound like Peter."
"It's the right idea, isn't it?" She got to her feet. "I gotta get back upstairs. I'm supposed to catch Nathan before he leaves for some fundraiser or luncheon or something."
"Alright."
She held out her hand. "No hard feelings on the snooping?"
He enveloped her hand in his and shook. "All things considered, it would be poor of me to hold a grudge."
She went to leave but paused at the door, her eyebrows raised. "By the way, yeah, you probably should be flipping through baby catalogs."
@ @ @ @ @
When Mohinder returned to his room after dinner, he was surprised to find Peter sitting in the bedside chair with a square, pastel green tin in his lap. Peter pushed it at him.
"I've been around the maternity ward at work, and one of the ladies recommended this," he said. "It's tea, kinds that are supposed to be good for pregnancies. No caffeine."
Mohinder's face heated up as he recalled his earlier behavior all too clearly. "Peter, you didn't have to," he protested.
"It might help you feel better," Peter said. He popped off the lid and flipped through the packages. "This kind is supposed to help you relax, and this is for intestinal cramps, and this one is for nausea, and this... helps uterine contractions. You probably don't need that one."
"Thank you, Peter. This is very kind." Mohinder replaced the lid and set the tin down. "But you don't need to walk on eggshells around me and excuse my tantrums." He had a thought. "It's oddly husband-like."
Peter grinned. "Hey, then I got me a smart one. And I still say you're a looker."
This time at Peter's praises, Mohinder broke into laughter. "Oh, darling, you're so good to me," he chuckled, rolling his eyes.
"You deserve it," Peter replied. His eyes fell on Mohinder's laptop, left open on the meal tray. "Hey, you shouldn't leave that logged on when you're out."
Mohinder sat on the bed and pulled the tray over. "I didn't--" He stopped when he read a window in the middle of the screen displaying simple text. Capslocked text. "Took him long enough," he muttered.
"What? Who?" Peter sat beside him and looked at the screen.
REBEL: HELLO? ANYBODY HOME?
"It's our friend," Mohinder said. "I was worried that he'd..." He shook his head and typed.
msuresh: I was starting to wonder if you were still being pursued. Your skills are advantageous.
REBEL: WELL, I AM, IN A WAY.
BENNET ASKED ME to CONSULT ON CYBER SECURITY. :)
"That guy gets around," Peter said.
msuresh: I guess you forgive easily.
REBEL: I'M YOUNG, REMEMBER?
AND HAVING AN HQ IS A GOOD IDEA.
AND TO BE GOVERNMENT-FUNDED, NOT GOVERNMENT-HUNTED.
msuresh: Yes, I know.
REBEL: MAYBE YOU COULD HELP CONVINCE MAYA THEN.
msuresh: You need her out of the house?
REBEL: NO, IT'S JUST BETTER IF SHE CAN TRUST.
SHE CAN STAY.
I'M JUST GONNA GIVE HER THE HOUSE.
"Uh, wow." Peter scratched his head. "Rebel's got quite the selfless streak going."
"He has to want something," Mohinder said. "Who just gives up a house?"
"He hasn't asked anything from you for his help, has he?" Peter pointed out.
"No, but..." Mohinder couldn't believe in that level of altruism.
msuresh: Do you know us? Why are you being so generous?
REBEL: NEVER MET MAYA.
BUT I KNOW THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO HER.
SHE NEEDS THE HOUSE MORE THAN ME.
msuresh: And what about me?
The reply took about a minute to show up.
REBEL: I DO KNOW YOU.
I STILL WOULD'VE HELPED IF I DIDN'T.
BUT I WANTED TO REPAY YOU.
msuresh: For what?
REBEL: NIKI SANDERS.
msuresh: What do you mean?
Niki never got the Shanti cure.
I was sidelined trying to get it to her and it was stolen.
She died before I could create another batch.
REBEL: SHE WOULD HAVE LIVED FOR YOU TO CURE HER IF IT HADN'T BEEN FOR ME.
"Who's Niki Sanders?" Peter asked.
"Do you remember the woman who attacked Sylar at Kirby Plaza?" Mohinder said. "She had amazing strength and a personality disorder to go with it. The Company assigned her to work with me after they helped her cope with it. She contracted the Shanti virus, but she died in a fire trying to rescue family from thugs."
"And you think this is the family?"
"Her son has technopathy." Mohinder felt his eyes burn. "He's Molly's age."
msuresh: Micah, you never should have gotten involved in any of this.
REBEL: IT'S NOT RIGHT TO STAND BY IF YOU CAN HELP.
AND I HELPED A LOT.
msuresh: You could have been killed.
Sylar was helping them. What if he'd gotten to you?
REBEL: SYLAR WASN'T WITHOUT HIS OWN WEAKNESSES
msuresh: What does that mean?
REBEL: YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME.
I THOUGHT FOR A WHILE TOO THAT I SHOULDN'T GET IN OVER MY HEAD.
AFTER MOM.
BUT WITH GREAT POWER COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY.
msuresh: Life isn't a comic book.
REBEL: JUST BECAUSE IT'S IN A COMIC DOESN'T MEAN IT'S NOT TRUE.
I WON'T BE JUST A BYSTANDER.
IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'VE NEVER TAKEN ACTION.
msuresh: I'm an adult.
REBEL: I'M NOT MUCH OF A KID ANYMORE.
I HAVE TO GO.
NANA NEEDS HELP WITH SUPPER.
msuresh: Wait.
Your mother's death wasn't your fault.
REBEL: I KNOW YOU WANT ME TO FEEL OKAY
BUT YOU WEREN'T THERE. I WAS.
WE HAVE TO LEARN FROM OUR MISTAKES.
GOOD NIGHT, MOHINDER.
The window vanished in a blink as Mohinder typed. He had managed to control his tears, and he took a trembling breath as his hands left the keys. "He's Molly's age," he said again.
"He had a point," Peter said. "If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have escaped Building 26 with Daphne. Matt's kid would've been taken. Other people would've been captured."
"It's just unfair," Mohinder burst.
"Yeah."
"You said Rebel was there when Tracy died. Tracy was Niki's sister. The boy has lost so much family right in front of him."
"I didn't know that," Peter said quietly. "That's terrible." They both sat in quiet until a beeping from Peter's pocket jarred them. He pulled his phone from his pocket and read a text. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "It's work."
Mohinder shook his head. "It's fine, Peter. They need you there. Sitting here with me doesn't help anyone."
"Look," Peter said, clapping Mohinder's shoulder as he got to his feet. "He's back with the family he does have now. Keep that in mind, okay?"
Mohinder nodded mechanically. "There's that."
After Peter left, Mohinder realized he'd never asked about his files, but they hardly seemed to matter, especially when his thoughts on Micah's family turned to his own.
@ @ @ @ @
Mohinder went to bed early and slept fitfully. He awoke again at almost eleven at night with a headache. It was a good a time as any to try Peter's teas, so he flipped through the tin and found a lemon balm packet that would apparently help him sleep. He grabbed a mug and headed downstairs.
The building was empty, save for some security guards, but the cafeteria remained open throughout the night. The workers were gone by nine, but the vending machines and hot water dispensers were left on. Still, Mohinder thought about buying a water boiler for his own room so he wouldn't have to come down every time he wanted tea-- and to avoid people in general.
Speaking of which, Bennet sat alone in the middle of the cafeteria. An array of papers covered his table, meant to seat four, with a coffee cup standing precariously on an exposed corner. Mohinder nodded to him as he filled his mug with water, but as he turned from the machine, Bennet spoke. "Mind if we talk?"
"Okay," Mohinder said. He took the seat across from Bennet. There was nowhere for his mug so he let it warm his hands as the tea bag soaked. "You're here late."
"Lots of work to do," Bennet said, setting down the papers he'd been reading. He took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "It's been a while since I've asked how you're doing here."
"Not much of a change to that answer since last time." Bennet seemed to mull over asking something more specific, staring blankly at his work, but Mohinder had his own question. "How long have you known who Rebel is?"
Bennet sat back. He didn't look remotely surprised. "I had my suspicions. When we started the Agency, I just called his grandmother's house and asked."
"A child shouldn't be involved in the Agency."
"He's too idealistic to let his age stop him, and he's not just a child."
"You know better than to encourage him."
"Micah has done much more than some security consultation without my approval," Bennet replied. "I think he's coped with his foray into espionage better than expected."
Mohinder didn't know if Bennet intended it, but he heard the unspoken phrase better than you did. The reminder didn't make him feel angry; he felt uncomfortable. Claire was closer to adopting the let's-move-on attitude than he was. However "even" he and Bennet might be, he couldn't let go of putting a bullet in the man's head.
"Noah," he started, fixing his eyes on the soft color of his tea, "we've never really discussed the aftermath of our foray into espionage."
"I think your message came across loud and clear."
Mohinder looked up, unamused. "Oh, yes, I was very cognizant of what I was doing. No confusion, no rival purposes..."
"What do you want me to say?" Bennet said. "You shot me, I abducted you. There's some nuance in there, but we're both alive and safe now."
"Yes, but... I just..."
Bennet waited patiently.
"Maybe it was all I could think to do at the time, but I regret that I couldn't think of something else, like hitting you in the leg instead. Not that I really intended to aim so well-- it was luck more than anything-- but still, I just want to apologize."
"You're sorry."
"Yes."
"For shooting me in the face."
Mohinder grimaced. "Yes."
"Instead of the leg," Bennet said with a smile.
Mohinder was momentarily dumbfounded, but at once he and Bennet broke into laughter. "Yes," Mohinder said again.
"Apology accepted," Bennet said, raising his coffee. "And I'm sorry I was a poor espionage partner and for kidnapping you."
Mohinder was still laughing as they clinked their mugs. "Excellent." He sipped his tea and shook his head. "Did you ever think you'd exchange such apologies?"
"No," Bennet said, setting his coffee back down, "but I think it's better that I am."
"I do believe apologies stray from the 'morally gray' philosophy."
Bennet smiled crookedly as he took a sip of coffee. "You sound just as fond of that phrase as the first time you heard it." He put down his cup. "Nowadays, I like to think of myself as... well-intentioned."
"Which would be what? Morally iridescent?"
Bennet laughed. "I suppose. It'll go better with my colorful personality."
Mohinder could feel his headache easing. He looked over the tablecloth Bennet had patched together. "So what are you doing, exactly?"
"I'm preparing a presentation about our proposed budget," Bennet replied. "It's actually a more alien concept than apologies."
"I suppose so, when you always had Bob's talent at your disposal."
"I don't think arguing for money will be too impossible, though. I do have my own persuasive talents."
"Don't take this too harshly," Mohinder said, "but at the Company, did you do anything that didn't involve a gun?"
"I can be charming," Bennet replied. "I actually sold cars in my younger days."
"How long ago was that?" Mohinder couldn't help but ask. He continued quickly at Bennet's dark look. "Look, I've had to grovel for money for genetics research, so I'm not inept at this."
Bennet nodded slightly. "Okay. Do you want to look at these forms and give me any pointers?"
Mohinder agreed to help, eager for something different to do. He borrowed one of Bennet's pencils and picked a stack of papers. It'd been years since he begged for grants, but each summary and spreadsheet brought him further into that money-grubbing headspace. Bennet had compiled all the necessary information fairly well, but Mohinder still jotted notes in each margin, voicing any concern that couldn't be encapsulated in a few phrases.
"Can't you push back this results reporting for the labs?" he asked. "You have very few projects listed here."
"Which is why they want frequent reports-- to be sure they're getting something in return," Bennet said. "But I might be able to push on it a bit."
"Who are you reporting to?"
"We lucked out there," Bennet said. He pointed out a page listing staff at the Agency. "Our government liaison is Lauren Gilmore, a former Company agent."
"That's some luck."
"Just luck in that when she moved on, she developed ties with the executive branch. I contacted her so we could make sure she maneuvered into this job."
"Does she know about me?"
"Not yet."
Mohinder looked through the rest of the list. "You still have quite a few blank spots."
"That's what happens when they rush operations like this."
"Yes, but I'm saying you should at least include the names and credentials of the best prospects for each position. You should leave as little room as possible for the people with the purses to draw their own conclusions."
Bennet nodded. "Am I including your name?"
"Bennet."
"I figured you for Director of the Research Department at first, but I think it'd be more beneficial if you stayed hands-on as Lead Researcher. We'd boot out the current guy; I'm not really fond of him. Not sure if it's because he lacks the accent or the grating earnestness."
"I think I have bigger concerns than your labs at the moment."
"I just want you to keep it under consideration. Do you really want to go back to teach in India after everything you've seen?"
"I think you underestimate the appeal of a quiet life, especially with a child."
"This is a changing world," Bennet said. "I know things have been rough, but you can't just ignore it." He hesitated. "We're not going to be able to keep this a secret forever."
"I'm tired," Mohinder said, getting to his feet.
"Don't you think your child should grow up around other specials?"
"Depends on which ones," Mohinder replied. "And it's not necessarily the specials I'm worried about."
Bennet leaned back in his chair, gazing over the papers. "I understand."
Mohinder found himself hoping this turn to their conversation didn't erase the progress they'd made at the start. Perhaps he did want to move on like Peter and Claire after all.
"Look," Bennet said, "I'm going to expand the permissions on your ID card and user profile. If you change your mind or if you just get paranoid, feel free to have a look around. I think you want to help more than you'll let yourself believe."
"It's not the desire I'm having trouble with. It's the judgments made here."
"Then I hope you're comfortable with other people making them."
Mohinder heard a racket behind him and turned. By the cafeteria entrance, Nathan had barreled into a table, slamming it against the wall and knocking chairs askew. He slapped his palms onto the table to keep from collapsing and pushed himself back up. He attempted to sort himself, running his hands through his mussed hair and trying to tighten his tie even though the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. His jacket was missing.
"Nathan?" Mohinder said.
Nathan blinked and looked around the cafeteria. "Hey."
"Are you okay?" Bennet asked.
"I, uh..."
"Are you drunk?" Mohinder asked incredulously, wrinkling his nose. What an assuring example of professionalism to have in charge of his healthcare.
Nathan looked around the room again. "No, I just... I'm trying to hold everything... steady..."
Mohinder glanced back at Bennet, expecting to share a look of bemusement, but Bennet kept his eyes on Nathan. "I thought you were meeting with Matt," Bennet said.
"Yeah, but... he... I'm not supposed to be here," Nathan said.
"Yes, you should be at home in bed," Mohinder replied dryly. "Is Matt stumbling around, too?" He remembered Matt trying to cajole him once or twice into a drinking competition when they lived together. It seemed likely that such a contest had gone predictably awry.
Matt himself appeared then, out of breath with his own tie loosened, but he didn't look disheveled like Nathan. "Sorry," Matt said. "I thought we'd keep it to a few drinks upstairs." He patted Nathan's back, and Nathan jerked away from him. Matt laughed uneasily. "I guess the senator's a wandering drunk."
"You seem fine," Mohinder observed.
"I have a higher threshold."
Than a man who was in the navy? Mohinder supposed he should be impressed.
"Come on, Nathan," Matt said, taking the inebriated man's arm. "How about you sleep this off?"
Nathan tried to pull away, but he was otherwise engaged with hanging his head and rubbing at his temple. "No, I... I'll forget..."
"Forget what?" Mohinder asked, not expecting much of an answer.
And he didn't get one. Nathan stared at him for a moment, but the memory he was struggling for was evidently long gone. "I don't know," he said.
"I'm sure it's something you'd like to forget," Matt said steadily, pulling again.
Nathan started to go with him, then abruptly stopped. "Wait!" he cried, pointing at Mohinder-- or rather, at Mohinder's stomach. "The baby!"
"Yes?" Mohinder said impatiently.
"How is it?"
"You know it's fine," Bennet said. "Matt, go on, or he'll be rambling all night."
Nathan mumbled as Matt led him out of sight. It sounded like, "That's good. That's important."
"I hope if Nathan participates in these meetings, he does it sober," Mohinder said. "I don't think he has enough political clout for people to ignore burgeoning alcoholism."
Bennet arranged his papers into stacks. "This is the first I've seen him like that. He'll be his usual in the morning."
"Goodie." Mohinder watched Bennet pull his briefcase from under the table and put the papers inside. "Don't you have more to do?"
"I'll take it upstairs, in case Matt needs help."
Mohinder followed Bennet out of the cafeteria. "I think you're a little busy to bother with that," he said. "I could check on them."
Bennet glanced at him as they walked side-by-side. "What, are you bored?"
"There's only so much to do around here." Mohinder shifted his shoulders, trying to ease a crick in his back. "Especially when your mobility is more limited as the days go by."
Bennet smirked. "Feel free to snoop around the research database with your new security clearance then."
Mohinder glared at him as they stepped onto the elevator, irrationally feeling like Bennet was slipping strains of cabin fever into his food. Bennet was unfazed by the look, of course, and pushed the buttons for the fourth and sixth floors. He pulled a smartphone from his pocket and fiddled with it quietly.
At the first stop, Bennet made a pleased noise as he stared at the screen. "Background check is done. I can add another name to the staff list."
"Oh?" Mohinder said as he stepped out, but he held the doors open so Bennet could finish.
"Dr. Joanna Sokolowski, your specialist. I'll just get Nathan to sign off on it, and we should have her in here next week."
Mohinder couldn't help but smile. "That's excellent news."
Bennet nodded and waved Mohinder off. "I'll forward her CV to you, and you can obsessively google her to your heart's content."