Fic: Alone
Title: Alone
Rating: PG
Words: 1100
Characters: Mohinder, Matt, Sylar
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Through episode 2-09, plus speculation about what might happen after episode 2-11.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not writing this for profit.
A/N: After the preview at the end of this week's episode, aelora said she wished she had fic. So I wrote this (which will be completely AU after the next two episodes, I'm sure). I seem to be going through a kinder, gentler writing phase. Enjoy it while you can, because I think it's about over.
Mohinder blinks and raises his head. He’s not sure what woke him-or more accurately, what stopped the process of falling asleep. He listens intently but there’s no clue. He walks noiselessly to the bedroom door and listens to the susurrus of Molly’s breath as she lies there peacefully.
Tomorrow Matt is taking her away.
It’s killing him.
He’s never really thought of himself as paternal, and in all honesty still doesn’t, but the love he sees in her eyes, the happy smile on her face when he walks in the door…it’s filled the emptiness inside him more than he’s imagined anything could. He knows Matt can protect her, and he knows it’s better for her to have a normal, quiet childhood. But the selfish part of him wants to chuck Matt out a window and hold on to Molly and never let her out of his sight again.
“What’s wrong?”
Matt’s coming in from the other room. Mohinder shakes his head and whispers, “I was just checking on her.”
“Don’t wake her up just because you can’t sleep.”
Mohinder chokes down irritation. After tomorrow, Matt will have Molly all to himself, just like he’s always wanted; the least he can do is- He stops that thought too. No point in starting an argument, even if it’s only inside his head.
“I was just making sure she was all right.”
“She’s fine. She’ll be fine. Stop hovering over her.”
Mohinder’s temper finally flares. “Excuse me for worrying.”
“Maybe you should-” Matt glances at the sleeping child and cuts off whatever he was going to say. “You’re the one who decided to stay on here and keep working on your precious research.”
“I have to do this,” Mohinder says tightly. “I can help a lot of people.”
“I think you’ve done quite enough.” Matt glares at him with narrowed eyes. “You know, you could have come with us, or gone out to Texas, or even gone back home. Don’t take it out on me just because you’re upset at ending up all alone.” He retreats back into the other room and shuts the door.
Mohinder looks back at Molly and swallows his anger again. Matt’s right about one thing, he thinks. You’re being clingy. You need to be strong tomorrow-don’t do anything that might make Molly feel guilty, like she ought to stay for you.
He lies back on the couch again and listens to the nighttime noises drifting in from the neighborhood. They’re just loud enough that he can’t hear her breathing any more.
The selfish part of him starts nagging again and he tells it to shut the hell up. In the morning she’ll be gone, and it’s best for her, and he has to accept it, even if he’s already aching inside. Even if he is already dreading coming home to the empty silent apartment.
He tries to force himself to relax, and the contradiction makes him chuckle for a second, but then the ache comes back even stronger. He blinks rapidly and gets himself under control. He stares mindlessly at the ceiling until the faint cracks in the plaster blur, and he closes his eyes, and drifts.
A hand strokes his cheek, softly. He’s reminded of his mother soothing away his childhood tears. She’s far away and this hand is rougher, but it’s the same message of peacefulness. A whisper sounds in his ear, “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay,” and he suddenly believes it. Then there’s a body pressed up against his, but it’s not sexual, just somehow comforting. He leans closer and arms slide around him. He sighs faintly and burrows his head against a warm chest. That hand touches his hair, and he finally relaxes inside.
Lips brush against his forehead, and he hears, “I’ll always be here.” And he realizes that deep down he knew that, he expected it, and it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing any more. He so desperately needs a constant, someone to belong to, who belongs to him, a tie that won’t be broken…
“Mohinder?”
He jerks upward, disoriented. The couch, the living room… He blinks at Matt. “What is it?”
“What happened?”
Mohinder frowns. “Nothing happened. I was…dreaming.” Something clicks inside his head, and he suddenly realizes who he was dreaming about, and he prays that Matt isn’t in there.
“I heard someone out here.”
He glances over the back of the couch at the empty room. “What are you talking about?”
Matt taps his temple unnecessarily. “No, I heard someone.”
Mohinder jerks, and then looks away. “What…did you hear?”
It’s Matt’s turn to frown. “I don’t know. Just an impression.”
“What kind of impression?” Mohinder asks.
“Just…I don’t know. I guess…happiness. Yeah.”
Mohinder lets his breath out. “Let me get this straight,” he says cautiously, still keeping his mind as blank as possible. “You woke me up, because you thought someone was out here being happy?”
Matt scowls at him and ducks over to the bedroom door, looking in on Molly. He turns back around and scans the living room. “I could have sworn…” He looks directly at Mohinder. “You’ll call me if anything strange happens, right?”
“Of course,” Mohinder says.
Matt glances around the room again, lips compressed, and then retreats back to his room. Mohinder closes his eyes and clenches his hands. If it wasn’t a dream…
He stands and walks to the open window. Matt’s been after the landlord to have the missing screen on it replaced, but he’s never paid much attention to it before; after all, this high up, what could come in except the occasional bug?
The shadows in the alley below are too dark for his eyes to penetrate, but he stares into them anyway. He should have known, he should have known…there’s no way to kill the man, is there? But if Sylar was in here, he could have murdered Molly and taken her brain, could have killed Matt. Instead, he-
Mohinder closes his eyes again and swallows. He wonders…what’s it like to be happy? He can barely remember.
He can’t trust Sylar. But then, he can’t really trust anyone else, either, can he? And that hand touched his hair so gently…
Finally he leans his head against the window frame. In a voice too low for normal ears to hear, he whispers, “I’ll be alone tomorrow night.”
There’s no change in the darkness below him, but he feels better for having said it.
He lies down alone on the couch, and waits for this night to end.