Fic: Heroes: Babysitting, Matt/Mohinder, PG-13/FRT
Title: Babysitting
Author: lostgirlslair
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13/FRT
Summary: It was late and Mohinder felt as if his eyes might fall out of his head.
Spoilers: Set after Kindred (2x03)
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair AT yahoo DOT com
A/N: Just an unbeta'd bit of action to keep me occupied before the show. *G*
Disclaimer: All things Heroes belong to Tim Kring and . . . er, other people who are definitely not me.
It was late and Mohinder felt as if his eyes might fall out of his head. He'd been staring into the microscope for so long that what he saw didn't make sense anymore. He was fairly confident that, after some sleep--and after he'd checked on Molly and Matt--it would make sense again. At least, he desperately hoped so.
With a sigh, he glanced over his shoulder, glad to see that he wasn't currently being watched. He thought he remembered the ring of a cell phone, perhaps someone saying they'd return soon, Mohinder had been too wrapped up in the work to really notice now that he'd seen the paintings.
He had to push that thought away. He was just too tired to consider it, now, too tired for the fear and worry. He started cleaning up the lab, stifling a yawn.
There was a sound like a car backfiring. The glass of one wall shattered inward and Mohinder stopped dead, his stomach suddenly jumping into his throat. There was a frozen moment in which confusion rushed up, and then fear flared and burned away the ice. Mohinder went to the floor, broken glass slicing into his hands and knees.
He cast about, frantic to find out where the danger was coming from. There was shouting and Mohinder crawled under the nearest worktable, glancing out in time to see one of the Company's men come charging in through the backdoor.
Another gunshot, this one far closer. The original shooter was in the hall behind the lab. He must have come in through the building itself, instead of the front door that led to the outside.
The company's man had charged in right on top of the shooter. A wound appeared in the man's chest, sending him backward and leaving a streak of bright blood across the floor.
Mohinder's hand flew to his mouth, covering his gasp. There was more gunfire, all of it too fast to follow, though Mohinder gathered that it had come from the front room, the room with the paintings. There had been a few workers still in there, packing up more of the paintings. Mohinder could only guess that they'd had guns as well.
Would it be safe to go in there? Mohinder wasn't entirely sure that the Company's people wouldn't just shoot him and be done with it. He had to get out. He'd promised Molly.
Desperate, Mohinder didn't think to clear away the glass first, he went through it, over it, and was lucky that only one wall had been shattered. His hands stung, but it barely registered as he crawled to the other side of the little glass-walled laboratory, and then along that wall toward the opening. If he could get around to the other side, he'd be away from the shooter, at least.
The wall above him shattered, the sound cutting through the shouting and the report of gunfire. Mohinder's heart hammered in his chest, beating against his ribs in time to the lurch of his stomach. Glass fell over him, none of it moving sharp enough to cut, yet still disconcerting. Like hard, chiming rain.
He made it to the edge of the laboratory, peeking around it to see the company's men crouching behind crates, firing through the laboratory at the shooter. If he went when the company men were shooting, he risked getting hit before they realized who he was--and even that didn't guarantee he wouldn't be shot. If he waited and began crawling around when the shooter ducked out from his hiding place . . . Well, he'd make a lovely slow-moving target.
He was pinned between the burglar--or whoever had started the gunfight--and the lab's security. He flattened himself to the floor, closing his eyes. His heart pounded and the only things he could think about were Matt and Molly: Molly's smile when she'd found out he'd be home to stay, Matt's earnest and somewhat angry brown eyes. Their last fight played through his mind. He didn't want it to truly be their last.
The report of gunfire didn't make it any harder for Mohinder to hear his own heartbeat, but it was several minutes before he realized someone was saying his name.
He opened his eyes, blinking twice before he could believe what he was seeing, and even then he was half convinced it was a hallucination.
Matt was crouched between a crate and the wall only a few feet away, in the front room. He had his gun out, pointed toward the ceiling, his back pressed to the crate. His eyes were pleading when Mohinder met them. "Come on!" he insisted, his voice so soft that Mohinder more read his lips than heard the sound.
There was at least five feet of empty floor to cross before Mohinder could get to him. He shook his head, one hand shooting out to gesture wildly at all that open space.
"Trust me," Matt said, his eyes never leaving Mohinder's.
How did he get in here? Mohinder took a deep breath and started forward. The sound of a gunshot made him flinch, pausing, but Matt motioned him on and Mohinder covered the last few feet in a blur of fear.
Matt grabbed him, pushing him up against the crate. There wasn't much space but Mohinder could see now that there was a narrow alley between crates and wall. They could get to the front steps, and if they could get over them, out the front door.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Mohinder whispered, though he knew he shouldn't, knew he should let it wait until later. The problem was that the fear was eating at him and he had to distract himself.
"Babysitting you." Matt said, ducking his head out and glancing back at the Company's men.
"I suppose this wouldn't be the best time to point out that I don't need a babysitter?" Mohinder's voice was almost a squeak and he was well aware how ridiculous that sounded at the moment. Still, being annoyed at Matt kept the fear a little farther at bay.
A bullet hit the crate behind them, tearing easily through the wood. It was above their heads, behind them, but still far too close for comfort.
"Really?" Matt asked, voice dry. Matt stood, fired at the original shooter and then crouched again, all in one motion that Mohinder would have thought too quick for Matt. "What would you be doing if I wasn't here?"
"Hiding. Exactly what I’m doing now," Mohinder whispered back, though he knew it was different. Without Matt there, he'd still have been in the laboratory, flat against a glass-strewn floor.
"Yeah, but would you know that we'll have a chance to run after the next shot, when this guy has to reload?" Matt asked, looking at him for the first time since Mohinder had made it behind the crate.
Before Mohinder could answer there was another shot from behind the laboratory and Matt grabbed him by the shoulder, shoving him toward the front door.
Mohinder didn't argue, he just went. Scrambling along the floor and trying desperately not to let his head peek too high over the crates. He couldn't hear Matt behind him, but he knew he was there, nonetheless.
There were gaps in the crates, enough that the company's people would see them if they didn't time their movements just right. Mohinder wouldn't have thought about it. He would have kept going, but Matt grabbed the back of his shirt and hissed "Stop." A moment later, on some cue only Matt could hear, he pushed Mohinder forward again.
It was worse than Mohinder had thought it could be, with the gunshots overhead and the shouted curses, and the glass shattering. Worse than all those things, however, was knowing that neither side of the conflict was 'his side.' There was no place of safety except out of the building. It seemed to take hours, but it was probably only a few minutes had passed, at most.
They reached the stairs and Matt's hand landed on his shoulder. Matt leaned in close, his breath brushing Mohinder's neck, his voice soft even though he whispered in Mohinder's ear.
"Go when I tell you to, all right? Just go. I'll be out as soon as I can be, but it'll be one at a time, all right?" Mohinder opened his mouth to object, but Matt's hand moved from his shoulder to clamp over his mouth. "As much as I like to argue with you, you're just going to do what I'm telling you this time, okay? You can yell at me all you want, later. Got it?"
Matt's hand was still covering his mouth, so Mohinder nodded to show he'd heard.
"Thank you," Matt said, and the words were painful to hear, full as they were of fear and worry, and yet a little relief. A moment later, "Go."
Mohinder scrambled up the side of the stairs, slipping under the metal banister and practically wriggling his way out of the open front door. There was a landing there, and the wall shielded him from the shooter. Still, Mohinder was down half the stairs, and well under the level of the windows, before he felt safe enough to stop. He turned around, his heart still hammer a wild beat. His mind ticked off each second that he didn't see Matt.
He didn't know how much time passed, but his foot had just moved to take him up a step when Matt crawled out of the door and Mohinder finally let out a breath he might well have been holding for years.
Matt came quickly down the steps, his hand grabbing at Mohinder's shirt and turning him partially around. Mohinder stumbled the first few steps and then caught up. Matt paused at the bottom of the stairs to put away his gun and then reached out again. His hand landed on Mohinder's arm and their eyes met.
"I've already called the cops. They'll be here soon and we can't be hear when they get here." Still, Matt didn't start moving right away.
"I'm all right," Mohinder said softly, watching as Matt's eyes flicked down, checking him for injuries.
"You're bleeding." Mohinder glanced down at his hands, realizing he'd been cut for the first time.
"They'll heal," he said, looking back up at Matt.
"Yeah." There was something quite sad in Matt's tone. "Let's get home. Those have got to be wrapped up before Molly gets back from that birthday party."
Author: lostgirlslair
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13/FRT
Summary: It was late and Mohinder felt as if his eyes might fall out of his head.
Spoilers: Set after Kindred (2x03)
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair AT yahoo DOT com
A/N: Just an unbeta'd bit of action to keep me occupied before the show. *G*
Disclaimer: All things Heroes belong to Tim Kring and . . . er, other people who are definitely not me.
It was late and Mohinder felt as if his eyes might fall out of his head. He'd been staring into the microscope for so long that what he saw didn't make sense anymore. He was fairly confident that, after some sleep--and after he'd checked on Molly and Matt--it would make sense again. At least, he desperately hoped so.
With a sigh, he glanced over his shoulder, glad to see that he wasn't currently being watched. He thought he remembered the ring of a cell phone, perhaps someone saying they'd return soon, Mohinder had been too wrapped up in the work to really notice now that he'd seen the paintings.
He had to push that thought away. He was just too tired to consider it, now, too tired for the fear and worry. He started cleaning up the lab, stifling a yawn.
There was a sound like a car backfiring. The glass of one wall shattered inward and Mohinder stopped dead, his stomach suddenly jumping into his throat. There was a frozen moment in which confusion rushed up, and then fear flared and burned away the ice. Mohinder went to the floor, broken glass slicing into his hands and knees.
He cast about, frantic to find out where the danger was coming from. There was shouting and Mohinder crawled under the nearest worktable, glancing out in time to see one of the Company's men come charging in through the backdoor.
Another gunshot, this one far closer. The original shooter was in the hall behind the lab. He must have come in through the building itself, instead of the front door that led to the outside.
The company's man had charged in right on top of the shooter. A wound appeared in the man's chest, sending him backward and leaving a streak of bright blood across the floor.
Mohinder's hand flew to his mouth, covering his gasp. There was more gunfire, all of it too fast to follow, though Mohinder gathered that it had come from the front room, the room with the paintings. There had been a few workers still in there, packing up more of the paintings. Mohinder could only guess that they'd had guns as well.
Would it be safe to go in there? Mohinder wasn't entirely sure that the Company's people wouldn't just shoot him and be done with it. He had to get out. He'd promised Molly.
Desperate, Mohinder didn't think to clear away the glass first, he went through it, over it, and was lucky that only one wall had been shattered. His hands stung, but it barely registered as he crawled to the other side of the little glass-walled laboratory, and then along that wall toward the opening. If he could get around to the other side, he'd be away from the shooter, at least.
The wall above him shattered, the sound cutting through the shouting and the report of gunfire. Mohinder's heart hammered in his chest, beating against his ribs in time to the lurch of his stomach. Glass fell over him, none of it moving sharp enough to cut, yet still disconcerting. Like hard, chiming rain.
He made it to the edge of the laboratory, peeking around it to see the company's men crouching behind crates, firing through the laboratory at the shooter. If he went when the company men were shooting, he risked getting hit before they realized who he was--and even that didn't guarantee he wouldn't be shot. If he waited and began crawling around when the shooter ducked out from his hiding place . . . Well, he'd make a lovely slow-moving target.
He was pinned between the burglar--or whoever had started the gunfight--and the lab's security. He flattened himself to the floor, closing his eyes. His heart pounded and the only things he could think about were Matt and Molly: Molly's smile when she'd found out he'd be home to stay, Matt's earnest and somewhat angry brown eyes. Their last fight played through his mind. He didn't want it to truly be their last.
The report of gunfire didn't make it any harder for Mohinder to hear his own heartbeat, but it was several minutes before he realized someone was saying his name.
He opened his eyes, blinking twice before he could believe what he was seeing, and even then he was half convinced it was a hallucination.
Matt was crouched between a crate and the wall only a few feet away, in the front room. He had his gun out, pointed toward the ceiling, his back pressed to the crate. His eyes were pleading when Mohinder met them. "Come on!" he insisted, his voice so soft that Mohinder more read his lips than heard the sound.
There was at least five feet of empty floor to cross before Mohinder could get to him. He shook his head, one hand shooting out to gesture wildly at all that open space.
"Trust me," Matt said, his eyes never leaving Mohinder's.
How did he get in here? Mohinder took a deep breath and started forward. The sound of a gunshot made him flinch, pausing, but Matt motioned him on and Mohinder covered the last few feet in a blur of fear.
Matt grabbed him, pushing him up against the crate. There wasn't much space but Mohinder could see now that there was a narrow alley between crates and wall. They could get to the front steps, and if they could get over them, out the front door.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Mohinder whispered, though he knew he shouldn't, knew he should let it wait until later. The problem was that the fear was eating at him and he had to distract himself.
"Babysitting you." Matt said, ducking his head out and glancing back at the Company's men.
"I suppose this wouldn't be the best time to point out that I don't need a babysitter?" Mohinder's voice was almost a squeak and he was well aware how ridiculous that sounded at the moment. Still, being annoyed at Matt kept the fear a little farther at bay.
A bullet hit the crate behind them, tearing easily through the wood. It was above their heads, behind them, but still far too close for comfort.
"Really?" Matt asked, voice dry. Matt stood, fired at the original shooter and then crouched again, all in one motion that Mohinder would have thought too quick for Matt. "What would you be doing if I wasn't here?"
"Hiding. Exactly what I’m doing now," Mohinder whispered back, though he knew it was different. Without Matt there, he'd still have been in the laboratory, flat against a glass-strewn floor.
"Yeah, but would you know that we'll have a chance to run after the next shot, when this guy has to reload?" Matt asked, looking at him for the first time since Mohinder had made it behind the crate.
Before Mohinder could answer there was another shot from behind the laboratory and Matt grabbed him by the shoulder, shoving him toward the front door.
Mohinder didn't argue, he just went. Scrambling along the floor and trying desperately not to let his head peek too high over the crates. He couldn't hear Matt behind him, but he knew he was there, nonetheless.
There were gaps in the crates, enough that the company's people would see them if they didn't time their movements just right. Mohinder wouldn't have thought about it. He would have kept going, but Matt grabbed the back of his shirt and hissed "Stop." A moment later, on some cue only Matt could hear, he pushed Mohinder forward again.
It was worse than Mohinder had thought it could be, with the gunshots overhead and the shouted curses, and the glass shattering. Worse than all those things, however, was knowing that neither side of the conflict was 'his side.' There was no place of safety except out of the building. It seemed to take hours, but it was probably only a few minutes had passed, at most.
They reached the stairs and Matt's hand landed on his shoulder. Matt leaned in close, his breath brushing Mohinder's neck, his voice soft even though he whispered in Mohinder's ear.
"Go when I tell you to, all right? Just go. I'll be out as soon as I can be, but it'll be one at a time, all right?" Mohinder opened his mouth to object, but Matt's hand moved from his shoulder to clamp over his mouth. "As much as I like to argue with you, you're just going to do what I'm telling you this time, okay? You can yell at me all you want, later. Got it?"
Matt's hand was still covering his mouth, so Mohinder nodded to show he'd heard.
"Thank you," Matt said, and the words were painful to hear, full as they were of fear and worry, and yet a little relief. A moment later, "Go."
Mohinder scrambled up the side of the stairs, slipping under the metal banister and practically wriggling his way out of the open front door. There was a landing there, and the wall shielded him from the shooter. Still, Mohinder was down half the stairs, and well under the level of the windows, before he felt safe enough to stop. He turned around, his heart still hammer a wild beat. His mind ticked off each second that he didn't see Matt.
He didn't know how much time passed, but his foot had just moved to take him up a step when Matt crawled out of the door and Mohinder finally let out a breath he might well have been holding for years.
Matt came quickly down the steps, his hand grabbing at Mohinder's shirt and turning him partially around. Mohinder stumbled the first few steps and then caught up. Matt paused at the bottom of the stairs to put away his gun and then reached out again. His hand landed on Mohinder's arm and their eyes met.
"I've already called the cops. They'll be here soon and we can't be hear when they get here." Still, Matt didn't start moving right away.
"I'm all right," Mohinder said softly, watching as Matt's eyes flicked down, checking him for injuries.
"You're bleeding." Mohinder glanced down at his hands, realizing he'd been cut for the first time.
"They'll heal," he said, looking back up at Matt.
"Yeah." There was something quite sad in Matt's tone. "Let's get home. Those have got to be wrapped up before Molly gets back from that birthday party."