Old Friends
Title: Old Friends
Genre: Television
Show: Heroes
Rating: PG
Category: Drama/Romance
Spoilers: S1
Summary: AU-set in the future. Mohinder meets up with the little girl he saved all those years ago and finds she's not a little girl anymore.
Love to my beta dragonydreams
______
Old Friends
______
2022
New York City
"Do you remember Officer Parkman?"
She still had those large eyes the color of whiskey and capable of staring through any pretense. He was happy to see she had finally grown into them; they no longer dominated her face but rather complimented it nicely. Her hair had a shine to it in places that matched her eyes perfectly; he felt the need for a stiff drink just looking at her.
"How could I forget? You were sure that he was your Hero, even more so than I."
His voice still had that crisp accent, the Indian dialect reflecting in his sharpened pronunciation of consonants. It was one of the things she'd clearly remembered about him years after the last time she'd seen him. Whether it was a reflection of her protected existence or on her place of residence, she'd never heard anyone with that particular way of speaking since.
Molly fidgeted in her seat and blushed under Mohinder's gaze. "He came to see me last week. Wanted to know if it would be alright if he asked my mother out onto a date. Not like we didn't all see that coming a mile away." Molly winked one of those deep amber eyes at him and explained, "But no one is more my Hero than you are, Mo."
"That's Professor Suresh to you," he replied with a mock-snarky smile. It'd been a pleasant surprise to look at the attendance list of one of his advanced genetics classes and to find her name there. Truthfully, it'd been both a pleasant surprise and exceedingly shocking. Had it really been that long since he'd last seen her?
The girl whose life he'd saved all those years ago had become a young woman, and no one had bothered to inform him.
Molly, on the other hand, didn't think Mohinder had changed at all. He still had the same curly-bordering-on-unruly hair, still had the darkly intelligent eyes; now though there were a few small lines at the corners of those eyes and a streak of light grey at his temples. Rather than making him look old, they merely made him look distinguished and extremely attractive.
She pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and wished she could brush away thoughts of that nature as easily. The decision to seek him out academically and personally had been a byproduct of her curiosity, an urge to compare these new memories of him to old. Micah might even say it was a visceral reaction to Mohinder's new proximity to her. For so many years, he'd traveled the world finding and alerting "Heroes" like herself and Micah; she'd wanted to see him again during that time but it'd never happened. Her mother Audrey would say that it was better this way; Mohinder had quickly become an expert on the genetic code and Heroes in general. When the entire issue had become public knowledge, he'd gone on lecture tours, talk shows, late night television; all of it to try and keep the public from panicking or getting the wrong impression. Almost single-handedly, he'd brought Heroes into the realm of public knowledge and kept any violence or fear to a minimum.
There had still been incidents however, so soon after the "outing" Molly's mother had used her old FBI contacts to arrange for a new identity for Molly and herself. They'd disappeared into middle-class America, not having contact with any Heroes until years later, when it was safe again.
All that time, she'd watched him. She'd read every article about him, bookmarked every website dedicated to him and Heroes. She knew more about him than he knew himself. She'd hated every famous celebrity that pursued him, envied the chivalrous and highly-publicized meeting between him and other Heroes.
She almost felt scorned in the way she'd never been included in any of it.
Molly smiled at Mohinder across the table and reached for his hands. "It's good to see you. I had no idea when I applied to NYU that you were teaching post-graduate studies. I hadn't even realized you'd settled down."
Mohinder laughed and hoped the way he slid his hands from under hers wasn't obviously in haste. "You make it sound as if I've spent the last several years partying. I've been working and frequently take a semester or two to rest between tours."
Molly grinned. "I, and the rest of the world, am very aware of what you do, Mohinder. Your personal life is covered more than any other Hero."
"I'm not a Hero."
"Not genetically, but honorably you are. You've done more for our cause than most of us were willing to do. We hid and stayed safe, but you put yourself out there. You made sure most of us had a future coming."
Something in her voice had him tilting his head to the side and reassuring her. [, not .] "There was nothing you could have done that night, Molly. You were just a child, Agent Hanson was right to get you out of there. We were too busy dealing with the police and the Company to protect you properly."
"I know that," her words were slightly sharper than she intended. With a blush, she smiled apologetically and continued, "It just makes a girl feel a little bit like an outsider. You've all fought so long and hard, against public opinion, private villains, doing so much to help and save the world, and I was just hiding in suburbia, safe when no one else was."
Mohinder leaned closer, passing a fingertip down her cheek and sliding it under her chin. Forcing her face up, he stared into her eyes and smiled. "I'm glad you were safe. The battlefield is no place for a child."
She mock-glared at him and brushed his hand away. "I'm not a child anymore."
"That much is clear. I almost didn't recognize you."
Molly smiled brilliantly and flipped the long sweep of hair that framed her face over her shoulder. "Gorgeous, aren't I?"
He didn't answer, instead choosing to smile softly and gesture for the waiter. "I'm starving."
She let his non-answer slip because she felt she might already know the answer. Maybe it was more that she didn't want a definite answer, because her imagination was better at the compliments than he ever could be.
Molly was attractive, she knew it and was told it often enough. Though she enjoyed male company often, she'd never settled down to just one. Some might call her flaky, but she preferred the term 'choosy'. No one had ever held her interest for very long.
Perhaps it was because she could never be herself around ordinary men. The only time she'd ever felt comfortable in her own skin was around her own kind. People like Micah, Matt, Niki and D.L. The few memories she had of being with them made her entire life feel constrained in comparison.
Mohinder, despite not truly being "one of them" made her comfortable in the same way. Someone who truly knew who she was and understood it; she could get addicted to being so relaxed.
Their orders were taken and a comfortable silence descended. The restaurant was dimly lit and expensive, guaranteeing a certain degree of privacy for them. Photographers were outside monitoring the many famous people littered around the dining area, but Mohinder had made sure they'd entered without being seen. It wouldn't do to have Molly's name smeared across magazines; some people would recognize her and that wouldn't do.
"Why genetics?"
Molly cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "What do you mean?"
"Why'd you choose my class?"
She shrugged and the strap of her dress slid off her shoulder; she didn't notice. "My mother wanted me to go into the FBI, like her. She thought maybe Missing Persons would be a good department for me." The joke being that no one was ever truly 'missing' around her.
"You could do a lot of good there."
"It didn't feel right," she explained, her eyes glazed over as she thought about the countless discussions/arguments over her future she'd had with her adoptive mother. "It felt almost straightforward. Like I would be going with the obvious choice instead of what I wanted to do. I want to help people, to heal them the way you healed me." She nodded absently, waiting until the waiter had refilled their wineglasses before speaking again. "I didn't want to go with the easy route just because it was expected of me."
Mohinder nodded in agreement. "I know exactly what you mean. Expectations can be a hard thing to overcome, especially when they come from parents."
The rest of dinner was spent in pleasant conversation, covering a broad range of subjects. They talked about their mutual friends, the recent additions to the United Nations, the applications of recent genetic discoveries, and of course, his new book. Molly told him about her travails in school, Mohinder told her about his travels around the world. They found that they both had an appreciation for Jazz music and read many of the same books.
Molly laughed harder than she had in a long time, a pleasant surprise since she remembered Mohinder as being rather serious-minded. He'd been a solemn young man and had aged well into a mature older man. His eyes danced with hers and the night grew later. With dinner finished, neither could think of a reason to prolong the evening, though this was realized with some disappointment.
They made their way to the back door, avoiding the public entrance in favor of a secret escape. Mohinder grasped her hand as they snuck past the cooking staff, and a small giggle escaped from her in face of the delicious thrill of sneaking about. Sure, the host had given them permission to take the back door and had even called Mohinder's driver, but the idea of doing something forbidden made the entire situation far more amusing than it should have been.
Mohinder checked the alley for signs of paparazzi and waved a greeting to his driver who idled just feet away. He turned to gesture for Molly to come but found his breath caught in his throat.
Framed by the bright light of the kitchen, Molly struck a haunting figure. Her dress draped down her willowy body, she was easily as tall as he, in a taunting flash of scarlet. Her wrap matched and she adjusted it around her shoulders as she waited for him to tell her it was clear. Her shoulders were pale in comparison to the color and looked frail. Mohinder could tell without feeling that she had small bones; bird-bones easily broken, she seemed fragile in the doorway. A need to protect her, mimicry of old feelings but with a new edge, stirred in him and he stepped closer, sliding his hand into hers.
She gazed down into his eyes and felt a little stirring of her own.
"It's clear," he whispered, his voice husky even as he tried to remember what it felt like when he wasn't in her presence. She made him laugh, made him smile, made him think; why hadn't he noticed just how much she affected him?
Molly nodded and stepped down the last step, unwittingly brushing against him as she moved toward the car. For all their iron-wills and deep thoughts, neither let go of the other's hand.
The ride back to Molly's off-campus apartment was slow. She was all the way on the other side of the city, but Mohinder didn't mind the long drive. Traffic was bad; most of the clubs were closing down about now. With a furtive movement, Mohinder had the screen between them and the driver sliding up and he didn't miss the speculative look in his driver's eyes as he did so.
"I had a good time, Molly. It was nice to see you again."
Molly nodded, turning her head to look at him as she spoke. In the small confines, that put her face very near his. "I had a good time. We should do this again sometime."
He smiled, brushing a finger down her pale cheek in a similar move to the one he'd done earlier. The intent was entirely different this time. "We should. I could call Peter and Claire; they're in town this week. They might like to see you again, as well."
Molly turned her cheek into his finger, relishing the feel of it. "That'd be nice. I'd also like to see you again...alone."
Was it just him, or had their faces come perilously closer in the last few moments?
"That can be arranged as well."
She grinned. "Good."
It felt almost like kismet when their lips brushed. It lasted only a second, if that; Mohinder slid back immediately, thoughts of why that shouldn't have happened lambasting in his mind. "We've arrived at your home."
Molly studied his face, the conflicting emotions of worry, guilt, and lust crossing it, and figured she'd cut him a small break. "I'll see you tomorrow...Professor Suresh."
Mohinder slid from the car, giving her a hand to help her from it. She slid out and consciously up his body as she stood. She whispered another thanks before heading for her door. He waited until she'd let herself in and waved before he returned to the vehicle and lowered the screen. "We can leave, now."
"You have a good time tonight, Doctor?" The driver asked, a smile playing at his lips as he thought of the beautiful woman they'd just dropped off. Having been with Mohinder for several years, he knew when his boss had had a good night and when he hadn't. The question was rhetorical, and he was mildly surprised when Mohinder answered.
"A very good night, indeed."
_______
Read and review, please.
Genre: Television
Show: Heroes
Rating: PG
Category: Drama/Romance
Spoilers: S1
Summary: AU-set in the future. Mohinder meets up with the little girl he saved all those years ago and finds she's not a little girl anymore.
Love to my beta dragonydreams
______
Old Friends
______
2022
New York City
"Do you remember Officer Parkman?"
She still had those large eyes the color of whiskey and capable of staring through any pretense. He was happy to see she had finally grown into them; they no longer dominated her face but rather complimented it nicely. Her hair had a shine to it in places that matched her eyes perfectly; he felt the need for a stiff drink just looking at her.
"How could I forget? You were sure that he was your Hero, even more so than I."
His voice still had that crisp accent, the Indian dialect reflecting in his sharpened pronunciation of consonants. It was one of the things she'd clearly remembered about him years after the last time she'd seen him. Whether it was a reflection of her protected existence or on her place of residence, she'd never heard anyone with that particular way of speaking since.
Molly fidgeted in her seat and blushed under Mohinder's gaze. "He came to see me last week. Wanted to know if it would be alright if he asked my mother out onto a date. Not like we didn't all see that coming a mile away." Molly winked one of those deep amber eyes at him and explained, "But no one is more my Hero than you are, Mo."
"That's Professor Suresh to you," he replied with a mock-snarky smile. It'd been a pleasant surprise to look at the attendance list of one of his advanced genetics classes and to find her name there. Truthfully, it'd been both a pleasant surprise and exceedingly shocking. Had it really been that long since he'd last seen her?
The girl whose life he'd saved all those years ago had become a young woman, and no one had bothered to inform him.
Molly, on the other hand, didn't think Mohinder had changed at all. He still had the same curly-bordering-on-unruly hair, still had the darkly intelligent eyes; now though there were a few small lines at the corners of those eyes and a streak of light grey at his temples. Rather than making him look old, they merely made him look distinguished and extremely attractive.
She pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and wished she could brush away thoughts of that nature as easily. The decision to seek him out academically and personally had been a byproduct of her curiosity, an urge to compare these new memories of him to old. Micah might even say it was a visceral reaction to Mohinder's new proximity to her. For so many years, he'd traveled the world finding and alerting "Heroes" like herself and Micah; she'd wanted to see him again during that time but it'd never happened. Her mother Audrey would say that it was better this way; Mohinder had quickly become an expert on the genetic code and Heroes in general. When the entire issue had become public knowledge, he'd gone on lecture tours, talk shows, late night television; all of it to try and keep the public from panicking or getting the wrong impression. Almost single-handedly, he'd brought Heroes into the realm of public knowledge and kept any violence or fear to a minimum.
There had still been incidents however, so soon after the "outing" Molly's mother had used her old FBI contacts to arrange for a new identity for Molly and herself. They'd disappeared into middle-class America, not having contact with any Heroes until years later, when it was safe again.
All that time, she'd watched him. She'd read every article about him, bookmarked every website dedicated to him and Heroes. She knew more about him than he knew himself. She'd hated every famous celebrity that pursued him, envied the chivalrous and highly-publicized meeting between him and other Heroes.
She almost felt scorned in the way she'd never been included in any of it.
Molly smiled at Mohinder across the table and reached for his hands. "It's good to see you. I had no idea when I applied to NYU that you were teaching post-graduate studies. I hadn't even realized you'd settled down."
Mohinder laughed and hoped the way he slid his hands from under hers wasn't obviously in haste. "You make it sound as if I've spent the last several years partying. I've been working and frequently take a semester or two to rest between tours."
Molly grinned. "I, and the rest of the world, am very aware of what you do, Mohinder. Your personal life is covered more than any other Hero."
"I'm not a Hero."
"Not genetically, but honorably you are. You've done more for our cause than most of us were willing to do. We hid and stayed safe, but you put yourself out there. You made sure most of us had a future coming."
Something in her voice had him tilting his head to the side and reassuring her. [, not .] "There was nothing you could have done that night, Molly. You were just a child, Agent Hanson was right to get you out of there. We were too busy dealing with the police and the Company to protect you properly."
"I know that," her words were slightly sharper than she intended. With a blush, she smiled apologetically and continued, "It just makes a girl feel a little bit like an outsider. You've all fought so long and hard, against public opinion, private villains, doing so much to help and save the world, and I was just hiding in suburbia, safe when no one else was."
Mohinder leaned closer, passing a fingertip down her cheek and sliding it under her chin. Forcing her face up, he stared into her eyes and smiled. "I'm glad you were safe. The battlefield is no place for a child."
She mock-glared at him and brushed his hand away. "I'm not a child anymore."
"That much is clear. I almost didn't recognize you."
Molly smiled brilliantly and flipped the long sweep of hair that framed her face over her shoulder. "Gorgeous, aren't I?"
He didn't answer, instead choosing to smile softly and gesture for the waiter. "I'm starving."
She let his non-answer slip because she felt she might already know the answer. Maybe it was more that she didn't want a definite answer, because her imagination was better at the compliments than he ever could be.
Molly was attractive, she knew it and was told it often enough. Though she enjoyed male company often, she'd never settled down to just one. Some might call her flaky, but she preferred the term 'choosy'. No one had ever held her interest for very long.
Perhaps it was because she could never be herself around ordinary men. The only time she'd ever felt comfortable in her own skin was around her own kind. People like Micah, Matt, Niki and D.L. The few memories she had of being with them made her entire life feel constrained in comparison.
Mohinder, despite not truly being "one of them" made her comfortable in the same way. Someone who truly knew who she was and understood it; she could get addicted to being so relaxed.
Their orders were taken and a comfortable silence descended. The restaurant was dimly lit and expensive, guaranteeing a certain degree of privacy for them. Photographers were outside monitoring the many famous people littered around the dining area, but Mohinder had made sure they'd entered without being seen. It wouldn't do to have Molly's name smeared across magazines; some people would recognize her and that wouldn't do.
"Why genetics?"
Molly cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "What do you mean?"
"Why'd you choose my class?"
She shrugged and the strap of her dress slid off her shoulder; she didn't notice. "My mother wanted me to go into the FBI, like her. She thought maybe Missing Persons would be a good department for me." The joke being that no one was ever truly 'missing' around her.
"You could do a lot of good there."
"It didn't feel right," she explained, her eyes glazed over as she thought about the countless discussions/arguments over her future she'd had with her adoptive mother. "It felt almost straightforward. Like I would be going with the obvious choice instead of what I wanted to do. I want to help people, to heal them the way you healed me." She nodded absently, waiting until the waiter had refilled their wineglasses before speaking again. "I didn't want to go with the easy route just because it was expected of me."
Mohinder nodded in agreement. "I know exactly what you mean. Expectations can be a hard thing to overcome, especially when they come from parents."
The rest of dinner was spent in pleasant conversation, covering a broad range of subjects. They talked about their mutual friends, the recent additions to the United Nations, the applications of recent genetic discoveries, and of course, his new book. Molly told him about her travails in school, Mohinder told her about his travels around the world. They found that they both had an appreciation for Jazz music and read many of the same books.
Molly laughed harder than she had in a long time, a pleasant surprise since she remembered Mohinder as being rather serious-minded. He'd been a solemn young man and had aged well into a mature older man. His eyes danced with hers and the night grew later. With dinner finished, neither could think of a reason to prolong the evening, though this was realized with some disappointment.
They made their way to the back door, avoiding the public entrance in favor of a secret escape. Mohinder grasped her hand as they snuck past the cooking staff, and a small giggle escaped from her in face of the delicious thrill of sneaking about. Sure, the host had given them permission to take the back door and had even called Mohinder's driver, but the idea of doing something forbidden made the entire situation far more amusing than it should have been.
Mohinder checked the alley for signs of paparazzi and waved a greeting to his driver who idled just feet away. He turned to gesture for Molly to come but found his breath caught in his throat.
Framed by the bright light of the kitchen, Molly struck a haunting figure. Her dress draped down her willowy body, she was easily as tall as he, in a taunting flash of scarlet. Her wrap matched and she adjusted it around her shoulders as she waited for him to tell her it was clear. Her shoulders were pale in comparison to the color and looked frail. Mohinder could tell without feeling that she had small bones; bird-bones easily broken, she seemed fragile in the doorway. A need to protect her, mimicry of old feelings but with a new edge, stirred in him and he stepped closer, sliding his hand into hers.
She gazed down into his eyes and felt a little stirring of her own.
"It's clear," he whispered, his voice husky even as he tried to remember what it felt like when he wasn't in her presence. She made him laugh, made him smile, made him think; why hadn't he noticed just how much she affected him?
Molly nodded and stepped down the last step, unwittingly brushing against him as she moved toward the car. For all their iron-wills and deep thoughts, neither let go of the other's hand.
The ride back to Molly's off-campus apartment was slow. She was all the way on the other side of the city, but Mohinder didn't mind the long drive. Traffic was bad; most of the clubs were closing down about now. With a furtive movement, Mohinder had the screen between them and the driver sliding up and he didn't miss the speculative look in his driver's eyes as he did so.
"I had a good time, Molly. It was nice to see you again."
Molly nodded, turning her head to look at him as she spoke. In the small confines, that put her face very near his. "I had a good time. We should do this again sometime."
He smiled, brushing a finger down her pale cheek in a similar move to the one he'd done earlier. The intent was entirely different this time. "We should. I could call Peter and Claire; they're in town this week. They might like to see you again, as well."
Molly turned her cheek into his finger, relishing the feel of it. "That'd be nice. I'd also like to see you again...alone."
Was it just him, or had their faces come perilously closer in the last few moments?
"That can be arranged as well."
She grinned. "Good."
It felt almost like kismet when their lips brushed. It lasted only a second, if that; Mohinder slid back immediately, thoughts of why that shouldn't have happened lambasting in his mind. "We've arrived at your home."
Molly studied his face, the conflicting emotions of worry, guilt, and lust crossing it, and figured she'd cut him a small break. "I'll see you tomorrow...Professor Suresh."
Mohinder slid from the car, giving her a hand to help her from it. She slid out and consciously up his body as she stood. She whispered another thanks before heading for her door. He waited until she'd let herself in and waved before he returned to the vehicle and lowered the screen. "We can leave, now."
"You have a good time tonight, Doctor?" The driver asked, a smile playing at his lips as he thought of the beautiful woman they'd just dropped off. Having been with Mohinder for several years, he knew when his boss had had a good night and when he hadn't. The question was rhetorical, and he was mildly surprised when Mohinder answered.
"A very good night, indeed."
_______
Read and review, please.