(no subject)
The Cure
by Harikari
AN: Much thanks to those who commented on part one. I hope this part doesn't disappoint. Feedback is love.
Part Two
Matt glanced at his wristwatch. It was a little after two o' clock in the afternoon and they were all three of them puttering around an overcrowded corner grocery store. Since Matt and Molly had settled into Mohinder's apartment the Detective and geneticist had acquired groceries by means of quick trips to convenience stores after work -- or, sometimes, the half gallon of milk and box of dry pasta noodles they needed at home came as an afterthought when one of them was out with Molly buying the colored pencils she needed for school, the High School Musical DVD she'd sworn she would absolutely die without. It was a necessary routine that both men had fallen into without any real thought. A routine they were both fairly happy with. Or, at least, Matt was pretty happy with it. But today they both weren't working, and the little girl who lived on the second floor of their building with her mom and who Molly liked to play with on the weekends was away at her grandparent's house. After lunch Mohinder had made a vague comment about needing paper towels and Molly had started going on about 'could they all three go to the store together, please?' and 'I'm done with all of my homework, there's nothing on television today, and with school and all I hardly ever get to see you guys, you know'.
So here they were. Here Matt was, standing next to the large freezer that held the cheeses and the lunch meats, gripping the handles of a red, plastic mini basket and watching Molly trying to convince Mohinder that Lunchables were healthy and part of a balanced diet, really.
Matt turned away from them; let his attention drift. Decided that in the middle of a crowded grocery store was as good a place as any to work on controlling his ability. After all, though he'd been getting steadily better at blocking and opening his mind, he wasn't anywhere near perfect at it yet. He took in a deep breath.
"...Chocolate chip cookies, diet orange soda, can of tomato soup..." came a string of thoughts, drifting through the air and into Matt's mind like stray leaves caught in the wind. The thoughts were calm, mechanical. He glanced around; noticed that the young cashier stationed near the front of the store was sliding the contents of a large basket over the pricing scanner in front of her. He blocked her out; opened his mind to the thoughts of a nearby elderly man who was perusing the several different flavors of Doritos in the snack food aisle.
He was casting around for a third candidate to practice on when Mohinder's voice distracted him.
"Of course. I'm sorry," the scientist was saying. "Molly, come here. We're blocking the food." Matt spun. A tall, well-built man with a head of blond hair had sidled up to Mohinder -- he was smiling a toothy smile down at Molly.
"No problem," the man said, and let his eyes shift to Mohinder. "I was just --"
And then Matt, who had failed to turn his 'blocking' back on, was suddenly hit with a flurry of rather loud and powerful thoughts about Mohinder, and about what the well-built man would like to do with Mohinder. To Mohinder.
Matt's teeth clenched. An unnatural redness crept up his neck and flushed his cheeks. Before either Molly or Mohinder could move he strode over to them; squeezed into the tight space between them and bent to search through the freezer. He caught a strong whiff of Molly's strawberry shampoo, felt the sleeve of Mohinder's coat brush his cheek. And then he was standing, a plastic package of sliced ham gripped in his hand. "Here you go." He shoved the ham at the man; forced a tight smile.
"Um...thanks." The man's mind was completely blank for a second. He blinked. And then, "Wait. How did you know-"
"Here," he said before the man could finish the question, and grabbed for the two Lunchables boxes that Molly was holding in her hands. He stuffed them into the mini basket, snug between the carrots and the overlarge roll of paper towels. "You can have two to take to school for lunch next week. Only two."
Molly looked pleased. Mohinder pursed his lips; didn't argue. Matt urged them to move and they all walked toward the check-out counters as one.
I had to interfere, thought Matt as he took his place in line. Right? And he started to work through the different reasons he'd decided to butt in to what Molly and Mohinder had no doubt perceived as an innocent interaction. Because, certainly, there were plenty of valid reasons. Valid reasons that had nothing to do with the fact that Matt simply hadn't liked the sight of the stranger smiling at Molly, or the sight of the stranger's eyes sliding over Mohinder's form. Reasons that, of course, had everything to do with the Company, and the geneticist's mission, and Molly's safety. Like...
"...So much as touched him...have killed him...should..." came a slew of thoughts, floating their way through the crowded little store and hitting Matt hard, abruptly. He froze for a moment, then closed his eyes and tried to pinpoint exactly where the disturbing thoughts had come from. But the low, twisted-sounding voice in his head had gone as soon as it had come -- it was as if the trail of dark thoughts had emerged from a flickering specter, there one moment and gone the next. Or, at least, they had emerged from someone as capable as a specter.
Matt shot a cautious look around the store anyway. He turned to the right...just in time to witness four gallons of milk fly inexplicably off of the freezer shelf they'd been sitting on. The man who had confronted Mohinder was standing just beneath that shelf, and the gallons of milk slammed unnaturally harshly into the man's head, face, shoulder. The man cursed; the plastic milk containers hit the floor and busted open. A few customers wandered over to the unfortunate victim, who was now clutching at his nose with both hands -- blood was running down his fingers, dripping onto the bright tiled floor, mingling with the large puddle of spilt milk.
Next to Matt, Mohinder tensed. "That was..." he started, then trailed off. His voice sounded off; he lifted a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck. "That was strange, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," said Matt. He looked down at Molly. The little girl was still, gripping Mohinder's hand. Something is wrong, thought the Detective. And then the vague memory of the unsettling dream he'd pushed so easily to the back of his mind that morning, and the twinge in his stomach he'd been ignoring all day came back full force. He swallowed. "Yeah, it was."
by Harikari
AN: Much thanks to those who commented on part one. I hope this part doesn't disappoint. Feedback is love.
Part Two
Matt glanced at his wristwatch. It was a little after two o' clock in the afternoon and they were all three of them puttering around an overcrowded corner grocery store. Since Matt and Molly had settled into Mohinder's apartment the Detective and geneticist had acquired groceries by means of quick trips to convenience stores after work -- or, sometimes, the half gallon of milk and box of dry pasta noodles they needed at home came as an afterthought when one of them was out with Molly buying the colored pencils she needed for school, the High School Musical DVD she'd sworn she would absolutely die without. It was a necessary routine that both men had fallen into without any real thought. A routine they were both fairly happy with. Or, at least, Matt was pretty happy with it. But today they both weren't working, and the little girl who lived on the second floor of their building with her mom and who Molly liked to play with on the weekends was away at her grandparent's house. After lunch Mohinder had made a vague comment about needing paper towels and Molly had started going on about 'could they all three go to the store together, please?' and 'I'm done with all of my homework, there's nothing on television today, and with school and all I hardly ever get to see you guys, you know'.
So here they were. Here Matt was, standing next to the large freezer that held the cheeses and the lunch meats, gripping the handles of a red, plastic mini basket and watching Molly trying to convince Mohinder that Lunchables were healthy and part of a balanced diet, really.
Matt turned away from them; let his attention drift. Decided that in the middle of a crowded grocery store was as good a place as any to work on controlling his ability. After all, though he'd been getting steadily better at blocking and opening his mind, he wasn't anywhere near perfect at it yet. He took in a deep breath.
"...Chocolate chip cookies, diet orange soda, can of tomato soup..." came a string of thoughts, drifting through the air and into Matt's mind like stray leaves caught in the wind. The thoughts were calm, mechanical. He glanced around; noticed that the young cashier stationed near the front of the store was sliding the contents of a large basket over the pricing scanner in front of her. He blocked her out; opened his mind to the thoughts of a nearby elderly man who was perusing the several different flavors of Doritos in the snack food aisle.
He was casting around for a third candidate to practice on when Mohinder's voice distracted him.
"Of course. I'm sorry," the scientist was saying. "Molly, come here. We're blocking the food." Matt spun. A tall, well-built man with a head of blond hair had sidled up to Mohinder -- he was smiling a toothy smile down at Molly.
"No problem," the man said, and let his eyes shift to Mohinder. "I was just --"
And then Matt, who had failed to turn his 'blocking' back on, was suddenly hit with a flurry of rather loud and powerful thoughts about Mohinder, and about what the well-built man would like to do with Mohinder. To Mohinder.
Matt's teeth clenched. An unnatural redness crept up his neck and flushed his cheeks. Before either Molly or Mohinder could move he strode over to them; squeezed into the tight space between them and bent to search through the freezer. He caught a strong whiff of Molly's strawberry shampoo, felt the sleeve of Mohinder's coat brush his cheek. And then he was standing, a plastic package of sliced ham gripped in his hand. "Here you go." He shoved the ham at the man; forced a tight smile.
"Um...thanks." The man's mind was completely blank for a second. He blinked. And then, "Wait. How did you know-"
"Here," he said before the man could finish the question, and grabbed for the two Lunchables boxes that Molly was holding in her hands. He stuffed them into the mini basket, snug between the carrots and the overlarge roll of paper towels. "You can have two to take to school for lunch next week. Only two."
Molly looked pleased. Mohinder pursed his lips; didn't argue. Matt urged them to move and they all walked toward the check-out counters as one.
I had to interfere, thought Matt as he took his place in line. Right? And he started to work through the different reasons he'd decided to butt in to what Molly and Mohinder had no doubt perceived as an innocent interaction. Because, certainly, there were plenty of valid reasons. Valid reasons that had nothing to do with the fact that Matt simply hadn't liked the sight of the stranger smiling at Molly, or the sight of the stranger's eyes sliding over Mohinder's form. Reasons that, of course, had everything to do with the Company, and the geneticist's mission, and Molly's safety. Like...
"...So much as touched him...have killed him...should..." came a slew of thoughts, floating their way through the crowded little store and hitting Matt hard, abruptly. He froze for a moment, then closed his eyes and tried to pinpoint exactly where the disturbing thoughts had come from. But the low, twisted-sounding voice in his head had gone as soon as it had come -- it was as if the trail of dark thoughts had emerged from a flickering specter, there one moment and gone the next. Or, at least, they had emerged from someone as capable as a specter.
Matt shot a cautious look around the store anyway. He turned to the right...just in time to witness four gallons of milk fly inexplicably off of the freezer shelf they'd been sitting on. The man who had confronted Mohinder was standing just beneath that shelf, and the gallons of milk slammed unnaturally harshly into the man's head, face, shoulder. The man cursed; the plastic milk containers hit the floor and busted open. A few customers wandered over to the unfortunate victim, who was now clutching at his nose with both hands -- blood was running down his fingers, dripping onto the bright tiled floor, mingling with the large puddle of spilt milk.
Next to Matt, Mohinder tensed. "That was..." he started, then trailed off. His voice sounded off; he lifted a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck. "That was strange, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," said Matt. He looked down at Molly. The little girl was still, gripping Mohinder's hand. Something is wrong, thought the Detective. And then the vague memory of the unsettling dream he'd pushed so easily to the back of his mind that morning, and the twinge in his stomach he'd been ignoring all day came back full force. He swallowed. "Yeah, it was."