Fic: When the Baby Came
Title: When the Baby Came
Author: starrdust41
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: implied Sylar/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Molly reflects on Mohinder's son (Sequel to "Fathers", "Babysitting", "Leaving", and "Memories")
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Mpreg, AU, implied Slash, Angst
When Mohinder told Molly that he was pregnant, she didn't believe him. She may have been a child, but she was not stupid. She knew it took a man and a woman to make a baby and that only a woman could get pregnant. Yet Mohinder had never lied to her before and there was no hint of humor in the Indian man's eyes.
She asked him how that was possible, and a look of shame quickly settled on her guardian's face.
"Something happened to me," he explained, his eyes no longer meeting her gaze. "My body... changed. It's difficult to explain."
"Who’s the father?" she asked and the way Mohinder flinched did not escape her gaze. She knew her answer without him saying anything.
"I am," he told her firmly. "I'm going to be the mother and the father” He sighed, everything from his posture to his deep brown eyes looked tired and frail as he scooted closer to her and wrapped her in his strong arms. "Things are going to change," he warned. "I'm going to change. My body... I'm going to get bigger, I'll have less energy, and when the baby comes we'll have to make some more adjustments." Mohinder paused, squeezing her tightly against his frame and placing a tender kiss on top of her hair. "But I promise I will never stop loving you."
A sickening feeling formed in the pit of her stomach as she fought back against the tears that longed to spring into her eyes and her world seemed to spin and crumble all at once. Yet she pushed those feelings aside and decided right then and there to be strong for the man who had done so much for her. She wrapped her small arms around him and told him she was happy. She told him she hoped his baby was a girl and that she was excited to be a big sister.
The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder slept, his dreams were filled with nightmares. The first few weeks that he had spent with them, Molly wished that he would leave.
They stayed with his mother, because Mohinder knew he would not be able to take care of Molly and himself in his condition. She'd spent the months since he had sent her to live in India sleeping in Mohinder's childhood room. She had decorated the walls with crayon colored pictures and maps with pins stuck in it to represent all the people she loved. (When Mohinder came home she moved his red pin to Chennai with her pink pin and Mrs. Suresh's yellow, and she moved Matt's blue pin to California.) The months she'd spent in India had been happy. She went to school, she made friends, and she felt safe for the first time since she'd met the boogeyman. It was as if she had finally escaped all the nightmares.
Yet Mohinder was not so lucky. His room was one door over from hers, and late at night she would hear him; screaming and crying and begging for his invisible attackers to go away. The first night it happened, Mrs. Suresh had gone into his room in an attempt to sooth her son and she'd walked away with a series of bruises running down her arms and a broken wrist. They had learned then to leave Mohinder alone when the nightmares came for him.
After a while, Mohinder gave up on sleep. He stayed up all night doing research, editing papers, listening to the radio, and doing anything he could to keep himself awake.
Molly had thought she'd escaped the nightmares, but Mohinder's baby had brought them all back.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder began to gain weight, he fell apart. His mother would tell him to eat, worrying that her growing grandchild did not have enough nourishment, and his baby would constantly beg for food, disrupting his normal schedule with sudden cravings and hunger pains, but the geneticist’s pride would not allow him to get fat.
Yet he pushed his pride aside and ate for his child. He ate and ate and after a month, a small swell started to appear where there had once been nothing but smooth stomach. He was still too small for Mrs. Suresh's liking. His mother would constantly bring out pregnancy books and old pictures of herself to show Mohinder how his stomach was supposed to look, but every pound gained tore the man up inside.
Molly remembered going to visit Mohinder at his university. She remembered hearing the other professors laugh and mock him for getting fat on American cuisine. Mohinder was an honest man and he longed to tell them the truth, but the truth was too complicated, so he kept silent and let the humiliation eat away at him.
That night, Mrs. Suresh had fed Mohinder two servings of curry and three bowls of rice. He ate his meal quickly and quietly and left the table without a sound. Later, when he thought they were all asleep, Mohinder smashed the oven with his bare hands.
-+-+-+-
When they found out Sylar was still alive, Mohinder was not himself. The Indian man’s already loose grasp on sanity was slipping even further. He spent his days walking around in a fog and his nights screaming himself hoarse. Things would go missing and turn up broken the next day. Some days Mohinder would march into Molly's room and scream at her for leaving her things down stairs and then he would cry and apologize for being so short tempered.
When things got really bad, Mrs. Suresh took Mohinder aside and suggested that he go see someone. He never did, but the destructive behavior quickly came to an end.
Most nights Molly would lie awake and think about Matt. She’d reach out to him with her ability and take a peek at his current life. She always saw him with his wife and son. He was happy.
She cried.
-+-+-+-
When Peter Petrelli came to visit, Mohinder tried to be himself. He spoke more openly, he smiled wider, but he was still miserable. At night, Peter would stay up with Mohinder and ask him questions about the baby. When was he due? Had the baby dropped yet? Was he getting enough to eat? He discussed pills that Mohinder should take; pills that would help him sleep through the night but would not harm the baby. Mohinder would always refuse, but Peter kept bringing it up night after night.
The paramedic was a calming presence on the house. Everyone started treating Mohinder's condition like a blessing instead of a burden, pretending that the geneticist had not spent the past four months in a crazed and irrational state of mind. Yet would Molly still felt ill every time the subject of the baby came up.
When Peter turned to her and asked if she was excited about becoming a “big sister,” the girl smiled and said yes, then went to her room and stayed quiet.
-+-+-+-
When labor came, there were tears and screams. Mohinder had cried and moaned and curled himself into a tight ball with every contraction.
Molly was frightened, horrified by the sight of her hero whimpering and falling apart as the child he had carried for nine long suffering months pressed down painfully on his insides in an attempt to rip him apart. As she sat in the hospital room watching as tears ran down Mohinder’s reddened cheeks, she felt certain that her guardian might die, but she tried her best not to voice those concerns. She just did her best to comfort him and Mohinder seemed to appreciate that.
When the nurse came to prepare Mohinder for surgery, they were all kicked out of his room. As the door slipped closed, Molly saw Mohinder grip the nurse’s arms in his trembling hands and gaze into her eyes, his dark brown orbs brimming with tears and filled with panic.
"Please," he begged. "Please, whatever happens, save the baby."
-+-+-+-
When the baby came, Mohinder was in love. After the delivery, all the Indian man wanted to do was gaze down at his son, his eyes glowing with pride and a wide smile painted on his features. He looked tired and weak and beautiful at all the same time.
She remembered seeing the baby for the first time. He looked small, but he was a little more than seven pounds and everyone said that that was a good weight. His eyes were scrunched closed and his skin was a strange blend of light brown and soft pink. He suckled his fist and gurgled as he curled towards Mohinder's warmth.
Mrs. Suresh cried.
Mohinder cried. "Isn't he beautiful?" he'd sobbed. "He's so beautiful!"
"He's great!" Molly had agreed enthusiastically, but inside she felt nothing for the newborn resting in the geneticist’s arms. She looked at the baby and only saw Sylar.
-+-+-+-
When the baby came home, the house was filled with noise. The phone rang off the hook, twenty four hours a day, with people calling to congratulate Mohinder.
Matt had called for the first time in months. Mohinder had yelled at him, asked why he hadn't spoke to them for so long, but the police officer must have given Mohinder a good excuse, because the subject had quickly shifted before Molly could even think of something to say.
After a while, Mohinder had handed the phone over to her and she heard Matt's voice for the first time in five months.
"Molly?" he asked, and for a second she was surprised he remembered her name. "How are you, kiddo?"
"Good," she said. She felt awkward and strangely rushed. She didn't want to stay on the phone long. She could imagine baby Matty crying somewhere in the background asking for his daddy and a ball of guilt formed in the pit of her stomach.
"Are you excited about the new baby?"
The ball quickly turned into a bolder and Molly desperately wanted to ask Matt if she could come live with him in LA. Instead, she lied and said that she loved the new baby. When they hung up, Molly wrote down Matt's number, telling herself that she would work up the courage to ask him later.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder's grandparents came to see the baby Mrs. Suresh and her son were a nervous wreck. They cleaned the house from top to bottom. They printed out as many pictures that could be taken in less than two weeks (which was a surprising amount to say the least). They spent hours cooking an elaborate meal to welcome the relatives. Mohinder bought Molly a new dress and Mrs. Suresh did her hair into braids, tying off the end with matching ribbons. The American girl suddenly felt very out of place in the house she had spent the past few months calling home.
That was when Mohinder told her the story he was going to tell his grandparents. He planned to tell them that she was his step-daughter. That he had met a woman in America, fell in love, and got married. That woman would be Molly's mother. He was going to tell them that the woman got pregnant with his child, but died in labor, leaving Mohinder with two children to raise on his own. He told her first because he wanted to get her approval. Molly smiled and told him that it was alright, but in truth it made her sick inside. She didn’t want to lie, especially not about her mother. She wished that Mohinder could tell his grandparents the truth, but the truth was too complicated. She supposed that sometimes, lying was just easier.
Although they were angry and disappointed, his grandparents believed his story. The old people didn't give much thought to Molly. They pat her cheek and welcome her to the family, but the baby was the only thing on their minds.
The elderly couple studied the baby carefully, turning him this way and that, checking every inch of him to see if he was healthy. Mohinder's grandmother asked for his name, and Mohinder proudly told her he was going to call him Manu. His grandfather smiled his approval and claimed that the child was a reincarnation of Mohinder's father. The small group agreed, saying over and over that Manu was Chandra's spirit come back to them in the next life.
Molly silently disagreed.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder found a new apartment, they all move out of Mrs. Suresh's home. The old woman was displeased. She asked for Mohinder to stay with her, she had grown fond of Molly and wanted to stay with her grandson, but Mohinder was as stubborn as ever. He had never been happy that he had to live with his mother; he thought it was not something a man in his thirties should do.
Molly's new bedroom was smaller than the last one she had, but she had moved so much in the past year that she does not complain. Somehow the girl knew that she will eventually have to leave again.
She put up her pictures and her maps and tried her best not to think about how Mohinder had placed Manu's room across the hall from hers. At night she can hear the baby crying and Mohinder softly singing him back to sleep. She would often lie awake and remember how Mohinder once sang to her. She missed the way he held her in his arms and told her he'd protect her from boogeymen.
He still hugs her. He still kisses her. He still tells her every day that he loves her. Yet it's the baby that takes up most of his time now. It's the baby that helps Mohinder sleep again. It's the baby that chases all of Mohinder's nightmares away.
Sometimes at night, the little girl dreams that the baby has an ability. She dreams the baby sucks away all of Mohinder's nightmares and sends them to Molly. Those nights, she wakes up in a sweat with tears in her eyes.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder asked if Molly wanted to hold the baby, she avoided him. She does her best to make up reasons not to come in contact with the baby. When she comes home from school in the afternoon, she would kick off her shoes and race to her room. When they eat dinner, she does her best to pay attention only to her plate, not the way Mohinder babbles and coos at the baby. When Mohinder tells her to kiss her "baby brother" goodnight, she does so coldly, robotically, and hating the way the baby's soft cheek feels against her lips.
After a few months, Mohinder asked her to start calling him "Father." He wants the baby to know to call him that when he gets older and he wants his child to hear the word as often as possible.
It's only then that Molly broke down and cried.
"I'm sorry Molly," Mohinder said sincerely, holding the frail girl in his arms. "I didn't want to upset you. You don't have to call me 'Father' if you don't want to."
"I do! I do!" she sobbed, burring her face in the Indian man's chest. "I love you Mohinder. I do want you to be my father."
"Then why-"
"Because you're asking me for him!"
She could practically feel the way Mohinder frowned thoughtfully as understanding finally dawned on him. "Molly," he began gently, stroking her back with his slender hand, "are you jealous of the baby?"
"He scares me!" she told him truthfully. "He's just like him. He's the boogeyman! He's Sylar!"
"He is not Sylar," he told her, his voice a bit too firm. Molly knew then that she had offended Mohinder. The last thing her guardian wanted to hear was that his child had anything in common with the man who had murdered his father. "What makes you think he is?"
Molly bowed her head as twin rivers began running down her red cheeks. "I know," she told him shamefully. "I've always known."
Mohinder sighed as he pulled the girl back, holding her shoulders in a firm yet tender grasp. "Why didn't you say anything?" Molly sniffled, but remained quiet. How was she supposed to say something like that to her parent? "I should have told you," he sighed, whipping her tears with the pad of his thumb. "It's true. Sylar is Manu's father, but he's not his family. We're the ones who are going to raise him and love him. Our love is what matters; it's what will make him a good person. Do you understand Molly?"
The American girl nodded, but the sick feeling in her stomach did not disappear.
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When the baby learned to crawl, Molly learned to walk away. When Mohinder wasn't paying attention, she would often leave whatever room Manu is in. When the baby reached out for her, she would always feel cold inside, imagining that he is reaching for her soul.
Even after everything Mohinder had said, Molly still could not bring herself to look at the infant with anything but a suspicious eye, especially since she heard that Mohinder had taken the baby to New York to meet Sylar. If anything, it merely confirmed her theory that the baby brought nightmares upon them. It was only a matter of time before Sylar came to India to see his son, until he took the baby and his sanity away from Mohinder, until he finally came and ripped apart the peaceful world Molly had become accustom to.
Yet the baby was nothing if not persistent. When she left the room, the baby followed. When she turned him around, he turned back towards her. When she frowned and stuck her tongue out at him, he crinkled his deep brown eyes and smiled at her.
"I hate you," she told him one day. "Why won't you just leave me alone?"
The baby gazed up at her then, his wide brown eyes filled with question as he stretched out his chubby arms and reached for her. "Mowi?"
The word hit her like a shot to the heart. Her green eyes widened as she studied the baby curiously. "Whuh?"
"Mowi?"
It dawn on her then, hit her like a ton of bricks; the baby was saying her name. She smiled, scooping the infant in her arms and carrying him towards Mohinder's study. "He said my name! He said my name!" Molly cheered, forgetting for a second how heavy Manu was as Mohinder turned to look at her.
"His first words?" he repeated, studying the two carefully.
"Say it again, Manu," she cooed, bouncing the infant happily.
"Mowi," he chanted, his lips spreading into a wide smile.
Mohinder beamed proudly, gathering the children into his arms and kissing them each tenderly on the nose. It was then that Molly realized that what Mohinder had said was true, Manu was not Sylar's son. If the baby could love, then he was nothing like the boogeyman.
He was her baby brother.
Author: starrdust41
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: implied Sylar/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Molly reflects on Mohinder's son (Sequel to "Fathers", "Babysitting", "Leaving", and "Memories")
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Mpreg, AU, implied Slash, Angst
When Mohinder told Molly that he was pregnant, she didn't believe him. She may have been a child, but she was not stupid. She knew it took a man and a woman to make a baby and that only a woman could get pregnant. Yet Mohinder had never lied to her before and there was no hint of humor in the Indian man's eyes.
She asked him how that was possible, and a look of shame quickly settled on her guardian's face.
"Something happened to me," he explained, his eyes no longer meeting her gaze. "My body... changed. It's difficult to explain."
"Who’s the father?" she asked and the way Mohinder flinched did not escape her gaze. She knew her answer without him saying anything.
"I am," he told her firmly. "I'm going to be the mother and the father” He sighed, everything from his posture to his deep brown eyes looked tired and frail as he scooted closer to her and wrapped her in his strong arms. "Things are going to change," he warned. "I'm going to change. My body... I'm going to get bigger, I'll have less energy, and when the baby comes we'll have to make some more adjustments." Mohinder paused, squeezing her tightly against his frame and placing a tender kiss on top of her hair. "But I promise I will never stop loving you."
A sickening feeling formed in the pit of her stomach as she fought back against the tears that longed to spring into her eyes and her world seemed to spin and crumble all at once. Yet she pushed those feelings aside and decided right then and there to be strong for the man who had done so much for her. She wrapped her small arms around him and told him she was happy. She told him she hoped his baby was a girl and that she was excited to be a big sister.
The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder slept, his dreams were filled with nightmares. The first few weeks that he had spent with them, Molly wished that he would leave.
They stayed with his mother, because Mohinder knew he would not be able to take care of Molly and himself in his condition. She'd spent the months since he had sent her to live in India sleeping in Mohinder's childhood room. She had decorated the walls with crayon colored pictures and maps with pins stuck in it to represent all the people she loved. (When Mohinder came home she moved his red pin to Chennai with her pink pin and Mrs. Suresh's yellow, and she moved Matt's blue pin to California.) The months she'd spent in India had been happy. She went to school, she made friends, and she felt safe for the first time since she'd met the boogeyman. It was as if she had finally escaped all the nightmares.
Yet Mohinder was not so lucky. His room was one door over from hers, and late at night she would hear him; screaming and crying and begging for his invisible attackers to go away. The first night it happened, Mrs. Suresh had gone into his room in an attempt to sooth her son and she'd walked away with a series of bruises running down her arms and a broken wrist. They had learned then to leave Mohinder alone when the nightmares came for him.
After a while, Mohinder gave up on sleep. He stayed up all night doing research, editing papers, listening to the radio, and doing anything he could to keep himself awake.
Molly had thought she'd escaped the nightmares, but Mohinder's baby had brought them all back.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder began to gain weight, he fell apart. His mother would tell him to eat, worrying that her growing grandchild did not have enough nourishment, and his baby would constantly beg for food, disrupting his normal schedule with sudden cravings and hunger pains, but the geneticist’s pride would not allow him to get fat.
Yet he pushed his pride aside and ate for his child. He ate and ate and after a month, a small swell started to appear where there had once been nothing but smooth stomach. He was still too small for Mrs. Suresh's liking. His mother would constantly bring out pregnancy books and old pictures of herself to show Mohinder how his stomach was supposed to look, but every pound gained tore the man up inside.
Molly remembered going to visit Mohinder at his university. She remembered hearing the other professors laugh and mock him for getting fat on American cuisine. Mohinder was an honest man and he longed to tell them the truth, but the truth was too complicated, so he kept silent and let the humiliation eat away at him.
That night, Mrs. Suresh had fed Mohinder two servings of curry and three bowls of rice. He ate his meal quickly and quietly and left the table without a sound. Later, when he thought they were all asleep, Mohinder smashed the oven with his bare hands.
-+-+-+-
When they found out Sylar was still alive, Mohinder was not himself. The Indian man’s already loose grasp on sanity was slipping even further. He spent his days walking around in a fog and his nights screaming himself hoarse. Things would go missing and turn up broken the next day. Some days Mohinder would march into Molly's room and scream at her for leaving her things down stairs and then he would cry and apologize for being so short tempered.
When things got really bad, Mrs. Suresh took Mohinder aside and suggested that he go see someone. He never did, but the destructive behavior quickly came to an end.
Most nights Molly would lie awake and think about Matt. She’d reach out to him with her ability and take a peek at his current life. She always saw him with his wife and son. He was happy.
She cried.
-+-+-+-
When Peter Petrelli came to visit, Mohinder tried to be himself. He spoke more openly, he smiled wider, but he was still miserable. At night, Peter would stay up with Mohinder and ask him questions about the baby. When was he due? Had the baby dropped yet? Was he getting enough to eat? He discussed pills that Mohinder should take; pills that would help him sleep through the night but would not harm the baby. Mohinder would always refuse, but Peter kept bringing it up night after night.
The paramedic was a calming presence on the house. Everyone started treating Mohinder's condition like a blessing instead of a burden, pretending that the geneticist had not spent the past four months in a crazed and irrational state of mind. Yet would Molly still felt ill every time the subject of the baby came up.
When Peter turned to her and asked if she was excited about becoming a “big sister,” the girl smiled and said yes, then went to her room and stayed quiet.
-+-+-+-
When labor came, there were tears and screams. Mohinder had cried and moaned and curled himself into a tight ball with every contraction.
Molly was frightened, horrified by the sight of her hero whimpering and falling apart as the child he had carried for nine long suffering months pressed down painfully on his insides in an attempt to rip him apart. As she sat in the hospital room watching as tears ran down Mohinder’s reddened cheeks, she felt certain that her guardian might die, but she tried her best not to voice those concerns. She just did her best to comfort him and Mohinder seemed to appreciate that.
When the nurse came to prepare Mohinder for surgery, they were all kicked out of his room. As the door slipped closed, Molly saw Mohinder grip the nurse’s arms in his trembling hands and gaze into her eyes, his dark brown orbs brimming with tears and filled with panic.
"Please," he begged. "Please, whatever happens, save the baby."
-+-+-+-
When the baby came, Mohinder was in love. After the delivery, all the Indian man wanted to do was gaze down at his son, his eyes glowing with pride and a wide smile painted on his features. He looked tired and weak and beautiful at all the same time.
She remembered seeing the baby for the first time. He looked small, but he was a little more than seven pounds and everyone said that that was a good weight. His eyes were scrunched closed and his skin was a strange blend of light brown and soft pink. He suckled his fist and gurgled as he curled towards Mohinder's warmth.
Mrs. Suresh cried.
Mohinder cried. "Isn't he beautiful?" he'd sobbed. "He's so beautiful!"
"He's great!" Molly had agreed enthusiastically, but inside she felt nothing for the newborn resting in the geneticist’s arms. She looked at the baby and only saw Sylar.
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When the baby came home, the house was filled with noise. The phone rang off the hook, twenty four hours a day, with people calling to congratulate Mohinder.
Matt had called for the first time in months. Mohinder had yelled at him, asked why he hadn't spoke to them for so long, but the police officer must have given Mohinder a good excuse, because the subject had quickly shifted before Molly could even think of something to say.
After a while, Mohinder had handed the phone over to her and she heard Matt's voice for the first time in five months.
"Molly?" he asked, and for a second she was surprised he remembered her name. "How are you, kiddo?"
"Good," she said. She felt awkward and strangely rushed. She didn't want to stay on the phone long. She could imagine baby Matty crying somewhere in the background asking for his daddy and a ball of guilt formed in the pit of her stomach.
"Are you excited about the new baby?"
The ball quickly turned into a bolder and Molly desperately wanted to ask Matt if she could come live with him in LA. Instead, she lied and said that she loved the new baby. When they hung up, Molly wrote down Matt's number, telling herself that she would work up the courage to ask him later.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder's grandparents came to see the baby Mrs. Suresh and her son were a nervous wreck. They cleaned the house from top to bottom. They printed out as many pictures that could be taken in less than two weeks (which was a surprising amount to say the least). They spent hours cooking an elaborate meal to welcome the relatives. Mohinder bought Molly a new dress and Mrs. Suresh did her hair into braids, tying off the end with matching ribbons. The American girl suddenly felt very out of place in the house she had spent the past few months calling home.
That was when Mohinder told her the story he was going to tell his grandparents. He planned to tell them that she was his step-daughter. That he had met a woman in America, fell in love, and got married. That woman would be Molly's mother. He was going to tell them that the woman got pregnant with his child, but died in labor, leaving Mohinder with two children to raise on his own. He told her first because he wanted to get her approval. Molly smiled and told him that it was alright, but in truth it made her sick inside. She didn’t want to lie, especially not about her mother. She wished that Mohinder could tell his grandparents the truth, but the truth was too complicated. She supposed that sometimes, lying was just easier.
Although they were angry and disappointed, his grandparents believed his story. The old people didn't give much thought to Molly. They pat her cheek and welcome her to the family, but the baby was the only thing on their minds.
The elderly couple studied the baby carefully, turning him this way and that, checking every inch of him to see if he was healthy. Mohinder's grandmother asked for his name, and Mohinder proudly told her he was going to call him Manu. His grandfather smiled his approval and claimed that the child was a reincarnation of Mohinder's father. The small group agreed, saying over and over that Manu was Chandra's spirit come back to them in the next life.
Molly silently disagreed.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder found a new apartment, they all move out of Mrs. Suresh's home. The old woman was displeased. She asked for Mohinder to stay with her, she had grown fond of Molly and wanted to stay with her grandson, but Mohinder was as stubborn as ever. He had never been happy that he had to live with his mother; he thought it was not something a man in his thirties should do.
Molly's new bedroom was smaller than the last one she had, but she had moved so much in the past year that she does not complain. Somehow the girl knew that she will eventually have to leave again.
She put up her pictures and her maps and tried her best not to think about how Mohinder had placed Manu's room across the hall from hers. At night she can hear the baby crying and Mohinder softly singing him back to sleep. She would often lie awake and remember how Mohinder once sang to her. She missed the way he held her in his arms and told her he'd protect her from boogeymen.
He still hugs her. He still kisses her. He still tells her every day that he loves her. Yet it's the baby that takes up most of his time now. It's the baby that helps Mohinder sleep again. It's the baby that chases all of Mohinder's nightmares away.
Sometimes at night, the little girl dreams that the baby has an ability. She dreams the baby sucks away all of Mohinder's nightmares and sends them to Molly. Those nights, she wakes up in a sweat with tears in her eyes.
-+-+-+-
When Mohinder asked if Molly wanted to hold the baby, she avoided him. She does her best to make up reasons not to come in contact with the baby. When she comes home from school in the afternoon, she would kick off her shoes and race to her room. When they eat dinner, she does her best to pay attention only to her plate, not the way Mohinder babbles and coos at the baby. When Mohinder tells her to kiss her "baby brother" goodnight, she does so coldly, robotically, and hating the way the baby's soft cheek feels against her lips.
After a few months, Mohinder asked her to start calling him "Father." He wants the baby to know to call him that when he gets older and he wants his child to hear the word as often as possible.
It's only then that Molly broke down and cried.
"I'm sorry Molly," Mohinder said sincerely, holding the frail girl in his arms. "I didn't want to upset you. You don't have to call me 'Father' if you don't want to."
"I do! I do!" she sobbed, burring her face in the Indian man's chest. "I love you Mohinder. I do want you to be my father."
"Then why-"
"Because you're asking me for him!"
She could practically feel the way Mohinder frowned thoughtfully as understanding finally dawned on him. "Molly," he began gently, stroking her back with his slender hand, "are you jealous of the baby?"
"He scares me!" she told him truthfully. "He's just like him. He's the boogeyman! He's Sylar!"
"He is not Sylar," he told her, his voice a bit too firm. Molly knew then that she had offended Mohinder. The last thing her guardian wanted to hear was that his child had anything in common with the man who had murdered his father. "What makes you think he is?"
Molly bowed her head as twin rivers began running down her red cheeks. "I know," she told him shamefully. "I've always known."
Mohinder sighed as he pulled the girl back, holding her shoulders in a firm yet tender grasp. "Why didn't you say anything?" Molly sniffled, but remained quiet. How was she supposed to say something like that to her parent? "I should have told you," he sighed, whipping her tears with the pad of his thumb. "It's true. Sylar is Manu's father, but he's not his family. We're the ones who are going to raise him and love him. Our love is what matters; it's what will make him a good person. Do you understand Molly?"
The American girl nodded, but the sick feeling in her stomach did not disappear.
-+-+-+-
When the baby learned to crawl, Molly learned to walk away. When Mohinder wasn't paying attention, she would often leave whatever room Manu is in. When the baby reached out for her, she would always feel cold inside, imagining that he is reaching for her soul.
Even after everything Mohinder had said, Molly still could not bring herself to look at the infant with anything but a suspicious eye, especially since she heard that Mohinder had taken the baby to New York to meet Sylar. If anything, it merely confirmed her theory that the baby brought nightmares upon them. It was only a matter of time before Sylar came to India to see his son, until he took the baby and his sanity away from Mohinder, until he finally came and ripped apart the peaceful world Molly had become accustom to.
Yet the baby was nothing if not persistent. When she left the room, the baby followed. When she turned him around, he turned back towards her. When she frowned and stuck her tongue out at him, he crinkled his deep brown eyes and smiled at her.
"I hate you," she told him one day. "Why won't you just leave me alone?"
The baby gazed up at her then, his wide brown eyes filled with question as he stretched out his chubby arms and reached for her. "Mowi?"
The word hit her like a shot to the heart. Her green eyes widened as she studied the baby curiously. "Whuh?"
"Mowi?"
It dawn on her then, hit her like a ton of bricks; the baby was saying her name. She smiled, scooping the infant in her arms and carrying him towards Mohinder's study. "He said my name! He said my name!" Molly cheered, forgetting for a second how heavy Manu was as Mohinder turned to look at her.
"His first words?" he repeated, studying the two carefully.
"Say it again, Manu," she cooed, bouncing the infant happily.
"Mowi," he chanted, his lips spreading into a wide smile.
Mohinder beamed proudly, gathering the children into his arms and kissing them each tenderly on the nose. It was then that Molly realized that what Mohinder had said was true, Manu was not Sylar's son. If the baby could love, then he was nothing like the boogeyman.
He was her baby brother.