Fic: Too Far Away (Heroes - Matt/Mohinder) 1/1 - Coda for 2x10
Title: Too Far Away
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: R
Word Count: 573
Summary: After Sylar's phone call, Mohinder has a melt-down. Coda for episode 2x10: "Truth and Consequences"
Disclaimer: Tim Kring owns it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Too Far Away
Mohinder couldn't breathe. Sylar... God, no... His chest constricted, and suddenly the back seat of the cab was too small and his vision began to blur. No, Molly, Matt... No... He was too far away, couldn't get back. Stuck in a cab too many miles from home to stop a psychopath that wanted to kill his family.
The phone fell from his hand to the floor of the cab unnoticed, the call already disconnected, Mohinder's mind spinning too fast to be sure of anything. Have to get home. Have to get home. Matt, Molly... Have to get home. Please... Can't let him. Can't let Sylar... But that was the one thought his mind couldn't finish, and his whirlwind came to a screeching halt.
The case with the Shanti virus cure was still nestled in his lap, waiting for Niki. The virus... cure...
He'd come all this way to try to save Niki, only to be gone when his family needed him.
He'd failed them.
All this scheming to take apart the company, infiltrating, double-crossing, admitting it and twisting the situation, falling into Bob's carefully constructed ploys and turning them to his own advantage, all to what end? Sylar... Sylar had his family. A psychotic serial-killer had. His. Family.
He couldn't even process what Sylar would do to them, the way the madman would take... apart...
Unable to stop it, Mohinder lurched forward and vomited on the floor of the cab, his vision swimming with tears that finally overflowed his eyes to join the mess at his feet. His gut squeezed as he heaved, the images in his head relentless and unforgiving. Molly screaming, Matt shouting, threatening, until Sylar... until...
He barely managed to choke down another wave of nausea as his eyes landed on his phone. Matt... Rational thought slowly seeped back into his brain. Matt should... would be at work, probably up to his eyeballs in files. Matthew...
Straightening, Mohinder beat against the glass partition until the cabbie looked back, and his voice was choked and hoarse when he demanded, “Turn around. Take me back to the airport. Now.”
With his left sleeve, he wiped his mouth of the remaining mess, noting to himself to severely over-tip the driver and pay him a ridiculous amount to take the case to Niki's address, then reached to retrieve the miraculously unscathed phone from the floor. He might be in a cab in the middle of New Orleans, but he wasn't helpless. The touch of a single button dialed Matt's cell.
One ring.
“Parkman,” came Matt's tired voice from the other end.
“Matthew, thank God.” His chest loosened fractionally at the discovery that his lover was, in fact, not pinned to a wall, being slowly tortured and butchered.
In response to Mohinder's greeting, Matt's voice immediately dropped into his cop tone, firm and serious, “Mohinder! What's wrong? Tell me, what is it?”
“Molly. It's Molly. Sylar.. he...” the scientist started to babble, unable to control himself any longer as his voice rose to a screaming, fevered pitch, “Sylar... he... Matt, Sylar has Molly!!!”
The instant explosion of rage and frenzied action from the other end of the connection ripped the rest of Mohinder's tears from him, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sting, his face contorting with panicked grief.
A bright flash of Molly's mischievous grin and Matt's breathless chuckle passed behind his eyelids.
He'd failed them.
* * * * *
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: R
Word Count: 573
Summary: After Sylar's phone call, Mohinder has a melt-down. Coda for episode 2x10: "Truth and Consequences"
Disclaimer: Tim Kring owns it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Too Far Away
Mohinder couldn't breathe. Sylar... God, no... His chest constricted, and suddenly the back seat of the cab was too small and his vision began to blur. No, Molly, Matt... No... He was too far away, couldn't get back. Stuck in a cab too many miles from home to stop a psychopath that wanted to kill his family.
The phone fell from his hand to the floor of the cab unnoticed, the call already disconnected, Mohinder's mind spinning too fast to be sure of anything. Have to get home. Have to get home. Matt, Molly... Have to get home. Please... Can't let him. Can't let Sylar... But that was the one thought his mind couldn't finish, and his whirlwind came to a screeching halt.
The case with the Shanti virus cure was still nestled in his lap, waiting for Niki. The virus... cure...
He'd come all this way to try to save Niki, only to be gone when his family needed him.
He'd failed them.
All this scheming to take apart the company, infiltrating, double-crossing, admitting it and twisting the situation, falling into Bob's carefully constructed ploys and turning them to his own advantage, all to what end? Sylar... Sylar had his family. A psychotic serial-killer had. His. Family.
He couldn't even process what Sylar would do to them, the way the madman would take... apart...
Unable to stop it, Mohinder lurched forward and vomited on the floor of the cab, his vision swimming with tears that finally overflowed his eyes to join the mess at his feet. His gut squeezed as he heaved, the images in his head relentless and unforgiving. Molly screaming, Matt shouting, threatening, until Sylar... until...
He barely managed to choke down another wave of nausea as his eyes landed on his phone. Matt... Rational thought slowly seeped back into his brain. Matt should... would be at work, probably up to his eyeballs in files. Matthew...
Straightening, Mohinder beat against the glass partition until the cabbie looked back, and his voice was choked and hoarse when he demanded, “Turn around. Take me back to the airport. Now.”
With his left sleeve, he wiped his mouth of the remaining mess, noting to himself to severely over-tip the driver and pay him a ridiculous amount to take the case to Niki's address, then reached to retrieve the miraculously unscathed phone from the floor. He might be in a cab in the middle of New Orleans, but he wasn't helpless. The touch of a single button dialed Matt's cell.
One ring.
“Parkman,” came Matt's tired voice from the other end.
“Matthew, thank God.” His chest loosened fractionally at the discovery that his lover was, in fact, not pinned to a wall, being slowly tortured and butchered.
In response to Mohinder's greeting, Matt's voice immediately dropped into his cop tone, firm and serious, “Mohinder! What's wrong? Tell me, what is it?”
“Molly. It's Molly. Sylar.. he...” the scientist started to babble, unable to control himself any longer as his voice rose to a screaming, fevered pitch, “Sylar... he... Matt, Sylar has Molly!!!”
The instant explosion of rage and frenzied action from the other end of the connection ripped the rest of Mohinder's tears from him, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sting, his face contorting with panicked grief.
A bright flash of Molly's mischievous grin and Matt's breathless chuckle passed behind his eyelids.
He'd failed them.
* * * * *