Fic: Thrown Together, Ripped Apart - Ch. 1
Title: Thrown Together, Ripped Apart
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13
Summary: While on the run from the government, Matt and Mohinder discover a major bump in the road. Word Count: 3,730
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Slash, Mpreg, Angst, AU
Chapter 1
The motel room was nearly pitch back save for the small strips of light that peaked in from between the blinds. The night sky was blocked by rainless clouds, and the only thing lighting the outside world were street lamps and the flickering lights on already closed shops.
Peter had left an hour ago with the promise of gathering supplies and Mohinder couldn't really blame Matt for being a bit anxious. Being wanted fugitives with the entire United States Government searching for them was enough to set the any easy going man on edge, and Matt had never been that easy going. The detective was nothing more than a bundle of nerves. He stood with his back pressed against the wall, periodically pulling back the curtains and scanning the outside world with both his eyes and his mind for anything even remotely suspicious.
Every second that the small group was away from one another felt like a second too long. The aftermath of the plane crash had sent everyone scattering off in search of escape or cover. Matt and Mohinder had managed to stick together and Peter... Peter had disappeared only to rejoin them less than a day later.
That had been over two days ago now and Mohinder wasn't sure what they were doing. No one had spoken of any definite plans; they just hid. He wasn't sure if they were simply going to continue to hide in plain sight until this entire government conspiracy collapsed or if they were going to make some sort attempt to escape. Whatever the decision, Mohinder was just grateful not to be alone.
Mohinder wouldn't admit it out loud -- not to Matt or Peter -- but he hadn't been feeling at all like himself lately. His head and back were constantly flashing with short bursts of pain -- stinging, throbbing pain that would throw him off balance and break his concentration at the most inopportune moments -- and his stomach... Mohinder frowned, squeezing his eyes shut as he wrapped his arms around his own waist. He had absolutely no appetite anymore, and what little he did manage to take in was always quickly heaved right back up, which was probably why he had been feeling so weak lately.
He couldn't exactly blame his symptoms on a reaction to whatever drug that had been used to sedate him and suppress his abilities -- although a part of him was quite worried if that experience would have any negative, lasting effects on any of them -- since he had been feeling out of sorts for months now. Mohinder had been certain that after being cured of his defective ability his body would have gotten back to normal. Yet, unfortunately, he had had only a few short blissful weeks of perfect health before everything started falling apart again.
"You should get some rest."
Mohinder jumped in surprise when he heard Matt's voice. He blinked, looking up at the other man. Even in the darkness he could see the worried frown crossing Matt’s features. The Indian shifted in his seat perched on the foot of the rented bed. There were two queen sized spring beds, both of them lumpy and rusted and squeaky and not at all tempting to sleep in. "I'm fine," he assured.
Matt sighed, knowing right away that Mohinder was lying. "You're not fine, you're a mess," he told him bluntly.
"Tactful as always, Matt," Mohinder scoffed, adjusting himself so that he was sitting with his legs folded underneath him. He had stayed in his fair share of motels over the years and although this one certainly wasn't the worst he had ever seen, the rented room brought back far too many unwanted memories.
"Well, you know what I mean," he tried again pulling himself away from his post by the window and moving to kneel by Mohinder's side. "You haven't been yourself lately. You're not eating, you're barely sleeping... I'm worried about you."
The Indian had to bite his lip to keep the smile from spreading across his face, because there was no hiding from Matt. He had been trying to keep his illness a secret from the detective for months, had thought he'd been doing a decent job of it, but Matt could always see right through him. "You worry too easily."
"Well, I have good reason to," Matt teased and that was the first time Mohinder had heard him make a joke since all this had started.
In fact, Mohinder suddenly realized that this was the first time he and Matt had gotten a chance to be alone in quite some time, yet the Indian felt no desire to take advantage of their current situation. It wasn't Matt, it was everything else. Even if he wouldn't say the words out loud, he was far too tired to do more than blink and the paranoid feeling that any second now a swarm of masked thugs could burst through the door and taser them into oblivion wasn't exactly doing anything for his libido. Whoever had said that danger was an aphrodisiac had never been on the run from federal agents.
"Listen, Peter will be back soon," Matt began, pulling Mohinder's thoughts back to the present and out of his troubled musings. "Why don't you just get some rest and I'll take the first shift? You can take mine."
They had decided to sleep in shifts in order to avoid the possibility of a late night ambush. Mohinder would go first and then shift off with Matt, with Peter taking the last few hours before they gathered their things and left at the first sign of morning. Yet Mohinder already knew that Matt was planning to take both of their shifts. At least the telepath wasn't forcing the idea into his head.
"Yes, that's a brilliant idea. And I'm sure that you'll just happen to 'forget' to wake me and end up taking both shifts and losing sleep yourself."
"Mohinder-"
"Matt, I told you, I'm fine," Mohinder said wearily, wrapping his arms around his middle.
Matt gave a long, exasperated sigh, too tired himself to put in the extra effort needed to continue their argument. "Fine, just... just promise me you'll try to get some sleep tomorrow in the car."
"Alright," Mohinder said reluctantly, seeing no point in fighting when Matt was clearly just concerned about his well being. "Where are we headed tomorrow?"
Matt shrugged as he moved to sit on the bed beside Mohinder, the springs groaning under his weight. "Dunno. We'll discuss it with Peter when he gets back."
Mohinder nodded. He was tired of this directionless shift. Had the Indian been in better health, he would have been in favor of taking action against whatever was happening. However, as things were, Mohinder couldn't really see himself being of much use. His enhanced strength and resistance to tasers were certainly beneficial, but in his tired, sickly state he would only serve to put the others at risk or simply get in the way.
The sound of the door knob twisting was enough to make Mohinder sit up straighter, but Matt's hand on his shoulder assured the Indian that it was only Peter. The young man shuffled into the small motel room holding a brown paper bag in one arm and using his other hand to stuff his key back into his pocket. Seemingly on force of habit alone, Peter flipped the lights on, causing both Mohinder and Matt to flinch, squeezing their eyes shut against the sudden transition from darkness to heavy, yellow light.
"Oh, sorry," Peter muttered sheepishly as he nudged the door close with his hip.
"It's alright," Matt sighed, standing up and taking the bag away from the other man. "Did you get everything?" he asked, peaking inside.
"Yeah. Oh!" Peter frowned, digging into the bag and grabbing something which he proceeded to toss over to Mohinder. The Indian was only mildly surprised to see that it was a small bottle of aspirin. "I know it wasn't exactly on the list, but I figured you'd need it."
His first impulse was to crush the plastic container into dust, but Mohinder pushed aside his indignation and managed to give a terse "Thank you," before cracking the aspirin bottle open and shaking out a few pills. Hopefully a couple of Tylenols would be enough to sooth his pounding head and aching back.
"So what next?" Matt asked, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it over to Mohinder. The geneticist rolled his eyes, but remained silent as he accepted the second offering. "Where do we go from here?"
"I think we should head to Costa Verde," Peter suggested. "Bennet was at the crash, he's obviously involved in all this. Maybe we could get some information out of him."
"And what are we supposed to do?" Mohinder asked skeptically. "Ring his door bell and ask him nicely to help us?" He frowned shaking his head slowly before popping a few pills into his mouth and chasing them with water. "He didn't as much as bat an eye when he tasered me and handed me off to those men."
"Well we can't just sit on our hands doing nothing," Peter argued. "There are innocent people being rounded up, people like us, we have to do something. Besides, he had an opening to shoot me twice and he didn’t. Obviously Bennet's not all in."
"Perhaps it's not out and out murder that's on their agenda," he suggested. Mohinder frowned, clearing his throat as he felt his stomach roll in displeasure. "Containment maybe?"
"Yeah, but how long before they decide holding us hostage is too costly and they decide to just wipe us out?"
"Peter, we're not exactly going to get much done with a three man militia," Matt pointed out, although Mohinder could tell that the detective was secretly willing to get his hands a bit dirty. "We're better off just laying low until we can get more... support."
Mohinder could tell from the determined gleam in Peter's eyes that the young man was not done arguing his point, but the Indian's stomach clenched and twisted in such a way that prevented him from staying to listen. He was on his feet in an instant, pushing passed Matt and scrambling towards the bathroom. He had barely made it to the toilet before the contents of his stomach came pouring out, pills and all. So much for medication.
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White hands -- large, cold, firm -- pressed him down against a floor made of solid ice. They were strong, crushing him, but Mohinder wasn't sure if the faint wheeze that escaped his lips was from the pressure in his shoulders or the pain that now lived inside, just beneath his skin.
His skin. It was imperfect, flawed, filled with ugly green scales that popped out at him wherever he looked himself over. He reached down to pick at them, but white hands brushed him aside.
White hands poked at him, digging into his skin before ripping it clean off like wrapping paper.
His own hand joined them, tearing and peeling until there was nothing left.
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Mohinder jerked awake. He hardly remembered falling asleep, yet the soft, steady sound of Matt's breathing just behind him told the Indian that both their shifts were over.
He blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to being awake. There was a faint bluish gray light peeking in from between the curtains and the deep red lights on the clock radio told him it was only a little past five in the morning. Somewhere in the darkness Peter sat in attentive silence, his ears tuned in to any disturbances in the outside world.
Mohinder's heart still hammered violently as the memories of the dream slowly slipped away from him, leaving the Indian with nothing more than the faint memory of startling images swirling in his head. It was enough to leave him panting as panicked sweat slid down his face.
Behind him Matt exhaled a long hot breath, his arm slinging across Mohinder's middle and pressing the Indian's back flush against his chest. "Go back to sleep," he heard Matt whisper, lazily giving Mohinder's stomach a reassuring pat. "Still time left."
The geneticist felt his eyes drifting shut as he took in the other man's warmth, enjoying the feel of his breath tickling the back of his neck. He soon found himself falling back to sleep, listening to the steady beating of Matt's heart.
-+-+-+-
"We should head north," Peter announced as he shut the trunk of their "rented" car with a thud that was far too loud for this early hour.
Mohinder blinked, looking at the young man's serious features curiously. "Costa Verde's west of here," he pointed out.
His only answer was a deep groan followed by the furrow of a reluctant brow. Peter had attempted to assume the role of leader after the plane had crashed, but the fact of the matter was that he was still just a boy, incapable of leading men, no matter how few the numbers were. The geneticist knew right away that this idea wasn't really coming from any decision the young man had come to on his own.
"Matt's right," Peter said slowly, "we're no army. We're better off staying safe than running head first into danger."
"But, that's not what you think," he said. There was no question about it. Peter wanted to fight, not survive.
Peter's expression didn't change as he glanced back at the motel, watching as Matt gathered the last of their things and headed towards the car. "I think it's not my place to put the two of you into anymore danger than you're already in," he sighed. "I think... I don't think I'm going to stick around for much longer."
Mohinder felt his stomach clench, twisting worriedly at the announcement. He knew he couldn't really make Peter do anything he didn't want to -- memories of the young man running out of his own apartment and then jumping out a window were a painful reminder of such -- but that didn't mean he wanted to see his friend willingly head into a dangerous situation.
"Peter," he began, reaching out to grab the boy by the arm, but his touch was brushed off quickly.
"Don't let Matt know," Peter whispered. "I'll stick around until you get better."
His throat clenched with guilt. The Indian suddenly felt like an anchor weighing the two down. He didn't want to see Matt and Peter drown because of him.
-+-+-+-
The gentle rocking of the car had lulled him into a dreamless sleep, yet the hushed whispers of the two men in the front seat were enough to drag Mohinder back into consciousness. He stayed silent, as bits of their conversation floated into his tired ears.
"... been like this for months," Matt was saying, worry lacing his words. "It's only getting worse."
"Has he been to a doctor?" Peter whispered back and from the faint clicks and shift in the vents, Mohinder could tell someone was playing with the air conditioning.
"No. He won't go."
"Well, maybe it's a reaction to something. Is he allergic to anything?"
"I don't know," Matt muttered, and even with his eyes closed in feigned sleep, Mohinder could see the other man's shoulder's slump at the question. "God, its times like this that I realize I barely know him." He paused. "We only meet eight months ago."
"I know."
"But it's driving me crazy," Matt sighed regretfully. "I don't know what I'd do if something happens to him."
"I know."
Silence filled the front half of the car and just when Mohinder thought it would be safe to "wake up" he heard Matt say "I think we should head to Canada."
"I figured you'd say that," Peter answered, surprising Mohinder with the quickness of his response. "We'll have a hard time getting there. Nathan'll probably have his goons watching the borders."
"Maybe you could fly us?"
There was another silence, this one thoughtful as Peter considered Matt's words. "Maybe," he said finally. "But it'll be difficult, especially for him. You should have seen 'im before. He was practically green. Does he get air sick?"
"I dunno," Matt answered, before rethinking his response. "No. No, he flies all the time. He's a pro." The sound of fabric rubbing against leather alerted Mohinder to Matt’s shrug. "Different methods though."
"Yeah, well... tell me about his symptoms. Maybe I can try to figure out what he has."
Mohinder had to resist the urge to frown at Peter's words before finally remembering that the young man was a former nurse.
"Well, uh, he's not eating," Matt began thoughtfully. "He can't keep anything down and doesn't have a taste for anything anymore, not even tea. He's always tired, but he doesn't sleep. Tries not to at least." He heard the leather seats squeak and knew right away that Matt was looking at him. His impression of a man asleep must have worked as the detective turned back around. "He's been having nightmares, kinda like Molly only not as intense."
The geneticist felt his face flush at Matt's words. He never would have imagined that Matt knew about his nightmares. They had a firm agreement about reading minds while conscious, but he prayed that the telepath wasn't monitoring his dreams out of concern.
"Anything else?" Peter prompted.
The detective hummed thoughtfully. "He's been kinda cranky and he keeps talking about headaches and... and back pain?" Matt laughed softly. "You know this all sounds so familiar. I feel like I should know this."
"All of his symptoms sound pretty random." He could hear Peter hum thoughtfully as he shifted in his seat. Mohinder hadn't taken the time to lay out all of his symptoms like this, but he had to agree with the younger man's conclusion, they all did seem quite unrelated. "It could be stress," Peter offered after a while.
"Yeah. This situation is pretty stressful."
Silence settled in once more, snuffing out what was left of the conversation. Mohinder laid back and thought.
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They had driven straight through three states. The border was just a stone's throw away. Yet they had stopped for the night, switched cars and found another motel to take shelter in. Peter and Mohinder had wanted to keep moving, figuring that they could rest once they were out of the country. Matt, however, felt they were better off being cautious and saving their strength and planning ahead. Somewhere along the way, Matt had assumed the role of leader of their trio, but neither Peter nor Mohinder argued. It seemed natural.
As far as Mohinder knew, Peter hadn't told Matt about his desire to part ways with them and the Indian wasn't certain whether or not he should say anything. It was, after all, Peter's choice, but Mohinder couldn't shake the feeling that the young man was only going to get himself captured -- if not worse -- if he ran off to face Nathan's men with some half baked scheme in his head. He supposed that fear came from the fact that Peter could now only mimic one ability at a time and he certainly didn't have any healing capabilities.
Yet a small part of Mohinder wondered if his real reluctance to see Peter go stemmed from his hesitance to be alone with Matt. Their relationship -- which the Indian easily admitted had always felt very rushed and sudden -- had been strained lately. Mohinder still felt too guilty over all the horrible things he had done during their separation and even the excuse that he had not been in the right state of mind did nothing to sooth those feelings. Suddenly the geneticist couldn't be near the detective without thinking back to the people he had hurt, the foolish things he had done in the name of science as well as things he still could not bring himself to think about.
They had drifted apart and Matt had decided to give Mohinder the time and space he felt certain were needed before the Indian could open up to him. Not that the geneticist ever thought he could.
The three had separated almost as soon as they had settled into the motel. Matt had volunteered to purchase supplies tonight and Peter offered to stand watch while Mohinder rested. Mohinder, however, was not in much of a mood to be near anyone and decided to take a long shower as a way to gain privacy without arousing concern.
Mohinder hadn't really taken a good look at himself since he had been cured of the disfiguring scales and blotches that had decorated his flesh. He had marveled at how quickly his skin had changed, had touched and caressed every inch of himself with gratitude and awe. After awhile, however, pride had turned to shame, because he never would have had this new found appreciation for being normal if he hadn't been so careless. He had almost turned himself into a monster on a whim, because of a desire to be "special." Even now it was still hard for him to look at himself in the mirror without seeing the horrible creature he had almost become staring back at him.
Yet as he stood in the shower, allowing the spray of warm water to splash against him, the geneticist took the time to really look at himself, and he was startled by what he saw.
His body had changed. Not in the same horrifying way that it had before -- there were no scales or weeping sores to be seen -- but he could tell that the shape of himself was decidedly different.
The skin around his chest was darker than usual and his pectorals were puffy and sore. He touched them, warily prodding with careful fingers only to find that the lumps were quite tender. Stranger still was the fact that despite that he hadn't been able to eat more than one meal a day without vomiting, there was still a slight swell in his lower abdomen.
Running his hand over the newly bulbous surface, Mohinder felt his heartbeat quicken and his skin -- despite the warm water washing over it -- turn pale as he suddenly began to realize just what all this meant.
Chapter 2
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13
Summary: While on the run from the government, Matt and Mohinder discover a major bump in the road. Word Count: 3,730
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Slash, Mpreg, Angst, AU
Chapter 1
The motel room was nearly pitch back save for the small strips of light that peaked in from between the blinds. The night sky was blocked by rainless clouds, and the only thing lighting the outside world were street lamps and the flickering lights on already closed shops.
Peter had left an hour ago with the promise of gathering supplies and Mohinder couldn't really blame Matt for being a bit anxious. Being wanted fugitives with the entire United States Government searching for them was enough to set the any easy going man on edge, and Matt had never been that easy going. The detective was nothing more than a bundle of nerves. He stood with his back pressed against the wall, periodically pulling back the curtains and scanning the outside world with both his eyes and his mind for anything even remotely suspicious.
Every second that the small group was away from one another felt like a second too long. The aftermath of the plane crash had sent everyone scattering off in search of escape or cover. Matt and Mohinder had managed to stick together and Peter... Peter had disappeared only to rejoin them less than a day later.
That had been over two days ago now and Mohinder wasn't sure what they were doing. No one had spoken of any definite plans; they just hid. He wasn't sure if they were simply going to continue to hide in plain sight until this entire government conspiracy collapsed or if they were going to make some sort attempt to escape. Whatever the decision, Mohinder was just grateful not to be alone.
Mohinder wouldn't admit it out loud -- not to Matt or Peter -- but he hadn't been feeling at all like himself lately. His head and back were constantly flashing with short bursts of pain -- stinging, throbbing pain that would throw him off balance and break his concentration at the most inopportune moments -- and his stomach... Mohinder frowned, squeezing his eyes shut as he wrapped his arms around his own waist. He had absolutely no appetite anymore, and what little he did manage to take in was always quickly heaved right back up, which was probably why he had been feeling so weak lately.
He couldn't exactly blame his symptoms on a reaction to whatever drug that had been used to sedate him and suppress his abilities -- although a part of him was quite worried if that experience would have any negative, lasting effects on any of them -- since he had been feeling out of sorts for months now. Mohinder had been certain that after being cured of his defective ability his body would have gotten back to normal. Yet, unfortunately, he had had only a few short blissful weeks of perfect health before everything started falling apart again.
"You should get some rest."
Mohinder jumped in surprise when he heard Matt's voice. He blinked, looking up at the other man. Even in the darkness he could see the worried frown crossing Matt’s features. The Indian shifted in his seat perched on the foot of the rented bed. There were two queen sized spring beds, both of them lumpy and rusted and squeaky and not at all tempting to sleep in. "I'm fine," he assured.
Matt sighed, knowing right away that Mohinder was lying. "You're not fine, you're a mess," he told him bluntly.
"Tactful as always, Matt," Mohinder scoffed, adjusting himself so that he was sitting with his legs folded underneath him. He had stayed in his fair share of motels over the years and although this one certainly wasn't the worst he had ever seen, the rented room brought back far too many unwanted memories.
"Well, you know what I mean," he tried again pulling himself away from his post by the window and moving to kneel by Mohinder's side. "You haven't been yourself lately. You're not eating, you're barely sleeping... I'm worried about you."
The Indian had to bite his lip to keep the smile from spreading across his face, because there was no hiding from Matt. He had been trying to keep his illness a secret from the detective for months, had thought he'd been doing a decent job of it, but Matt could always see right through him. "You worry too easily."
"Well, I have good reason to," Matt teased and that was the first time Mohinder had heard him make a joke since all this had started.
In fact, Mohinder suddenly realized that this was the first time he and Matt had gotten a chance to be alone in quite some time, yet the Indian felt no desire to take advantage of their current situation. It wasn't Matt, it was everything else. Even if he wouldn't say the words out loud, he was far too tired to do more than blink and the paranoid feeling that any second now a swarm of masked thugs could burst through the door and taser them into oblivion wasn't exactly doing anything for his libido. Whoever had said that danger was an aphrodisiac had never been on the run from federal agents.
"Listen, Peter will be back soon," Matt began, pulling Mohinder's thoughts back to the present and out of his troubled musings. "Why don't you just get some rest and I'll take the first shift? You can take mine."
They had decided to sleep in shifts in order to avoid the possibility of a late night ambush. Mohinder would go first and then shift off with Matt, with Peter taking the last few hours before they gathered their things and left at the first sign of morning. Yet Mohinder already knew that Matt was planning to take both of their shifts. At least the telepath wasn't forcing the idea into his head.
"Yes, that's a brilliant idea. And I'm sure that you'll just happen to 'forget' to wake me and end up taking both shifts and losing sleep yourself."
"Mohinder-"
"Matt, I told you, I'm fine," Mohinder said wearily, wrapping his arms around his middle.
Matt gave a long, exasperated sigh, too tired himself to put in the extra effort needed to continue their argument. "Fine, just... just promise me you'll try to get some sleep tomorrow in the car."
"Alright," Mohinder said reluctantly, seeing no point in fighting when Matt was clearly just concerned about his well being. "Where are we headed tomorrow?"
Matt shrugged as he moved to sit on the bed beside Mohinder, the springs groaning under his weight. "Dunno. We'll discuss it with Peter when he gets back."
Mohinder nodded. He was tired of this directionless shift. Had the Indian been in better health, he would have been in favor of taking action against whatever was happening. However, as things were, Mohinder couldn't really see himself being of much use. His enhanced strength and resistance to tasers were certainly beneficial, but in his tired, sickly state he would only serve to put the others at risk or simply get in the way.
The sound of the door knob twisting was enough to make Mohinder sit up straighter, but Matt's hand on his shoulder assured the Indian that it was only Peter. The young man shuffled into the small motel room holding a brown paper bag in one arm and using his other hand to stuff his key back into his pocket. Seemingly on force of habit alone, Peter flipped the lights on, causing both Mohinder and Matt to flinch, squeezing their eyes shut against the sudden transition from darkness to heavy, yellow light.
"Oh, sorry," Peter muttered sheepishly as he nudged the door close with his hip.
"It's alright," Matt sighed, standing up and taking the bag away from the other man. "Did you get everything?" he asked, peaking inside.
"Yeah. Oh!" Peter frowned, digging into the bag and grabbing something which he proceeded to toss over to Mohinder. The Indian was only mildly surprised to see that it was a small bottle of aspirin. "I know it wasn't exactly on the list, but I figured you'd need it."
His first impulse was to crush the plastic container into dust, but Mohinder pushed aside his indignation and managed to give a terse "Thank you," before cracking the aspirin bottle open and shaking out a few pills. Hopefully a couple of Tylenols would be enough to sooth his pounding head and aching back.
"So what next?" Matt asked, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it over to Mohinder. The geneticist rolled his eyes, but remained silent as he accepted the second offering. "Where do we go from here?"
"I think we should head to Costa Verde," Peter suggested. "Bennet was at the crash, he's obviously involved in all this. Maybe we could get some information out of him."
"And what are we supposed to do?" Mohinder asked skeptically. "Ring his door bell and ask him nicely to help us?" He frowned shaking his head slowly before popping a few pills into his mouth and chasing them with water. "He didn't as much as bat an eye when he tasered me and handed me off to those men."
"Well we can't just sit on our hands doing nothing," Peter argued. "There are innocent people being rounded up, people like us, we have to do something. Besides, he had an opening to shoot me twice and he didn’t. Obviously Bennet's not all in."
"Perhaps it's not out and out murder that's on their agenda," he suggested. Mohinder frowned, clearing his throat as he felt his stomach roll in displeasure. "Containment maybe?"
"Yeah, but how long before they decide holding us hostage is too costly and they decide to just wipe us out?"
"Peter, we're not exactly going to get much done with a three man militia," Matt pointed out, although Mohinder could tell that the detective was secretly willing to get his hands a bit dirty. "We're better off just laying low until we can get more... support."
Mohinder could tell from the determined gleam in Peter's eyes that the young man was not done arguing his point, but the Indian's stomach clenched and twisted in such a way that prevented him from staying to listen. He was on his feet in an instant, pushing passed Matt and scrambling towards the bathroom. He had barely made it to the toilet before the contents of his stomach came pouring out, pills and all. So much for medication.
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White hands -- large, cold, firm -- pressed him down against a floor made of solid ice. They were strong, crushing him, but Mohinder wasn't sure if the faint wheeze that escaped his lips was from the pressure in his shoulders or the pain that now lived inside, just beneath his skin.
His skin. It was imperfect, flawed, filled with ugly green scales that popped out at him wherever he looked himself over. He reached down to pick at them, but white hands brushed him aside.
White hands poked at him, digging into his skin before ripping it clean off like wrapping paper.
His own hand joined them, tearing and peeling until there was nothing left.
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Mohinder jerked awake. He hardly remembered falling asleep, yet the soft, steady sound of Matt's breathing just behind him told the Indian that both their shifts were over.
He blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to being awake. There was a faint bluish gray light peeking in from between the curtains and the deep red lights on the clock radio told him it was only a little past five in the morning. Somewhere in the darkness Peter sat in attentive silence, his ears tuned in to any disturbances in the outside world.
Mohinder's heart still hammered violently as the memories of the dream slowly slipped away from him, leaving the Indian with nothing more than the faint memory of startling images swirling in his head. It was enough to leave him panting as panicked sweat slid down his face.
Behind him Matt exhaled a long hot breath, his arm slinging across Mohinder's middle and pressing the Indian's back flush against his chest. "Go back to sleep," he heard Matt whisper, lazily giving Mohinder's stomach a reassuring pat. "Still time left."
The geneticist felt his eyes drifting shut as he took in the other man's warmth, enjoying the feel of his breath tickling the back of his neck. He soon found himself falling back to sleep, listening to the steady beating of Matt's heart.
-+-+-+-
"We should head north," Peter announced as he shut the trunk of their "rented" car with a thud that was far too loud for this early hour.
Mohinder blinked, looking at the young man's serious features curiously. "Costa Verde's west of here," he pointed out.
His only answer was a deep groan followed by the furrow of a reluctant brow. Peter had attempted to assume the role of leader after the plane had crashed, but the fact of the matter was that he was still just a boy, incapable of leading men, no matter how few the numbers were. The geneticist knew right away that this idea wasn't really coming from any decision the young man had come to on his own.
"Matt's right," Peter said slowly, "we're no army. We're better off staying safe than running head first into danger."
"But, that's not what you think," he said. There was no question about it. Peter wanted to fight, not survive.
Peter's expression didn't change as he glanced back at the motel, watching as Matt gathered the last of their things and headed towards the car. "I think it's not my place to put the two of you into anymore danger than you're already in," he sighed. "I think... I don't think I'm going to stick around for much longer."
Mohinder felt his stomach clench, twisting worriedly at the announcement. He knew he couldn't really make Peter do anything he didn't want to -- memories of the young man running out of his own apartment and then jumping out a window were a painful reminder of such -- but that didn't mean he wanted to see his friend willingly head into a dangerous situation.
"Peter," he began, reaching out to grab the boy by the arm, but his touch was brushed off quickly.
"Don't let Matt know," Peter whispered. "I'll stick around until you get better."
His throat clenched with guilt. The Indian suddenly felt like an anchor weighing the two down. He didn't want to see Matt and Peter drown because of him.
-+-+-+-
The gentle rocking of the car had lulled him into a dreamless sleep, yet the hushed whispers of the two men in the front seat were enough to drag Mohinder back into consciousness. He stayed silent, as bits of their conversation floated into his tired ears.
"... been like this for months," Matt was saying, worry lacing his words. "It's only getting worse."
"Has he been to a doctor?" Peter whispered back and from the faint clicks and shift in the vents, Mohinder could tell someone was playing with the air conditioning.
"No. He won't go."
"Well, maybe it's a reaction to something. Is he allergic to anything?"
"I don't know," Matt muttered, and even with his eyes closed in feigned sleep, Mohinder could see the other man's shoulder's slump at the question. "God, its times like this that I realize I barely know him." He paused. "We only meet eight months ago."
"I know."
"But it's driving me crazy," Matt sighed regretfully. "I don't know what I'd do if something happens to him."
"I know."
Silence filled the front half of the car and just when Mohinder thought it would be safe to "wake up" he heard Matt say "I think we should head to Canada."
"I figured you'd say that," Peter answered, surprising Mohinder with the quickness of his response. "We'll have a hard time getting there. Nathan'll probably have his goons watching the borders."
"Maybe you could fly us?"
There was another silence, this one thoughtful as Peter considered Matt's words. "Maybe," he said finally. "But it'll be difficult, especially for him. You should have seen 'im before. He was practically green. Does he get air sick?"
"I dunno," Matt answered, before rethinking his response. "No. No, he flies all the time. He's a pro." The sound of fabric rubbing against leather alerted Mohinder to Matt’s shrug. "Different methods though."
"Yeah, well... tell me about his symptoms. Maybe I can try to figure out what he has."
Mohinder had to resist the urge to frown at Peter's words before finally remembering that the young man was a former nurse.
"Well, uh, he's not eating," Matt began thoughtfully. "He can't keep anything down and doesn't have a taste for anything anymore, not even tea. He's always tired, but he doesn't sleep. Tries not to at least." He heard the leather seats squeak and knew right away that Matt was looking at him. His impression of a man asleep must have worked as the detective turned back around. "He's been having nightmares, kinda like Molly only not as intense."
The geneticist felt his face flush at Matt's words. He never would have imagined that Matt knew about his nightmares. They had a firm agreement about reading minds while conscious, but he prayed that the telepath wasn't monitoring his dreams out of concern.
"Anything else?" Peter prompted.
The detective hummed thoughtfully. "He's been kinda cranky and he keeps talking about headaches and... and back pain?" Matt laughed softly. "You know this all sounds so familiar. I feel like I should know this."
"All of his symptoms sound pretty random." He could hear Peter hum thoughtfully as he shifted in his seat. Mohinder hadn't taken the time to lay out all of his symptoms like this, but he had to agree with the younger man's conclusion, they all did seem quite unrelated. "It could be stress," Peter offered after a while.
"Yeah. This situation is pretty stressful."
Silence settled in once more, snuffing out what was left of the conversation. Mohinder laid back and thought.
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They had driven straight through three states. The border was just a stone's throw away. Yet they had stopped for the night, switched cars and found another motel to take shelter in. Peter and Mohinder had wanted to keep moving, figuring that they could rest once they were out of the country. Matt, however, felt they were better off being cautious and saving their strength and planning ahead. Somewhere along the way, Matt had assumed the role of leader of their trio, but neither Peter nor Mohinder argued. It seemed natural.
As far as Mohinder knew, Peter hadn't told Matt about his desire to part ways with them and the Indian wasn't certain whether or not he should say anything. It was, after all, Peter's choice, but Mohinder couldn't shake the feeling that the young man was only going to get himself captured -- if not worse -- if he ran off to face Nathan's men with some half baked scheme in his head. He supposed that fear came from the fact that Peter could now only mimic one ability at a time and he certainly didn't have any healing capabilities.
Yet a small part of Mohinder wondered if his real reluctance to see Peter go stemmed from his hesitance to be alone with Matt. Their relationship -- which the Indian easily admitted had always felt very rushed and sudden -- had been strained lately. Mohinder still felt too guilty over all the horrible things he had done during their separation and even the excuse that he had not been in the right state of mind did nothing to sooth those feelings. Suddenly the geneticist couldn't be near the detective without thinking back to the people he had hurt, the foolish things he had done in the name of science as well as things he still could not bring himself to think about.
They had drifted apart and Matt had decided to give Mohinder the time and space he felt certain were needed before the Indian could open up to him. Not that the geneticist ever thought he could.
The three had separated almost as soon as they had settled into the motel. Matt had volunteered to purchase supplies tonight and Peter offered to stand watch while Mohinder rested. Mohinder, however, was not in much of a mood to be near anyone and decided to take a long shower as a way to gain privacy without arousing concern.
Mohinder hadn't really taken a good look at himself since he had been cured of the disfiguring scales and blotches that had decorated his flesh. He had marveled at how quickly his skin had changed, had touched and caressed every inch of himself with gratitude and awe. After awhile, however, pride had turned to shame, because he never would have had this new found appreciation for being normal if he hadn't been so careless. He had almost turned himself into a monster on a whim, because of a desire to be "special." Even now it was still hard for him to look at himself in the mirror without seeing the horrible creature he had almost become staring back at him.
Yet as he stood in the shower, allowing the spray of warm water to splash against him, the geneticist took the time to really look at himself, and he was startled by what he saw.
His body had changed. Not in the same horrifying way that it had before -- there were no scales or weeping sores to be seen -- but he could tell that the shape of himself was decidedly different.
The skin around his chest was darker than usual and his pectorals were puffy and sore. He touched them, warily prodding with careful fingers only to find that the lumps were quite tender. Stranger still was the fact that despite that he hadn't been able to eat more than one meal a day without vomiting, there was still a slight swell in his lower abdomen.
Running his hand over the newly bulbous surface, Mohinder felt his heartbeat quicken and his skin -- despite the warm water washing over it -- turn pale as he suddenly began to realize just what all this meant.
Chapter 2