watson_ofarkham | | writers_muses | david russell quote (Reply)

The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn.
- David Russell

Mohinder wished he could say the last thing he expected was for Peter Petrelli to show up at his door step, but considering the news coverage of what had happened in New York had found its way overseas, he wasn't. He'd been waiting for days now for Peter to show up, to tell him he needed to come back, and he'd come up with countless arguments he could summon on command to keep the other man from so much as getting his foot in the door. They were good arguments, polite enough but strongly worded, and they had gone out the window the second he'd opened the door and found Peter waiting for him.

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised he'd been unable to find his words, either. Peter always had a way of making logic run for the hills and to see him standing there, wide-eyed and exhausted, he knew that this time would be no different. He should have known, but that piece of the equation had somehow eluded him, and it was too late now.

With a sigh, he pushed the door open properly and turned to head back into the house, making a beeline for the mountain of books he'd been pursuing for one of his classes. He'd gone back to teaching, the job a safe alternative to the one Mira had offered him at her labs; he wondered how long that would last if Peter had his way. If Peter had his way, for all that he was lingering in the doorway.

Snatching his glasses up off the desk -- not that he'd needed them for some time -- he put them on neatly and sat down, pulling a book to him so he could pick up where he'd left off. And as he skimmed the words and all without looking up, he called, "You can come in, Peter. I promise I don't bite."

Peter made a soft, amused noise and stepped inside, closing the door behind him quietly. He took a moment to look around, paying close attention to the pictures of Mohinder and Mira on one of the end tables, and then he was moving over to him, something near guilt on his face. Mohinder strongly suspected it was because he hadn't expected him to have a real life here in India and was having second thoughts about dragging him away from it. Maybe he'd get lucky and Peter would talk himself out of asking him to come back without him having to say a word.

"Nice place," he commented lightly, stopping just sort of Mohinder's desk.

"It's Mira's," the Indian replied, looking up from the book he'd managed to skim a whole two lines of. "When I came back the first time, I wasn't sure I had the right to beg my mother for my old room back, and I was fortunate enough to run into her before I'd run up too much of a hotel bill. She suggested I board with her until I had my feet back under me."

Peter gestured to Mohinder's workspace. "Seems like you're doing well enough to me."

"Yes, well, rooming with one's former paramour seems to lend itself well to staying more than a couple of weeks." He closed the book, putting it aside, and folded his hands across the one empty space on his desk. "Did you need something, Peter?"

He looked singlarly resolved; so much for hoping Peter would come to his senses before it came to this. "You've seen the news, right? About what happened in Central Park?"

"Claire has more or less the entire world in an uproar," he answered smartly. "It's made the news even here."

Sighing, Peter reached up to scrub a hand over his face, nodding as he dropped it back to his side. It was no surprise to think that the empath didn't quite agree with what his niece had done. "Yeah, it's -- complicated, I guess, and it's sort of why I'm here." He paused, presumably for dramatic effect, before continuing. "We need you to come back."

Mohinder raised his eyebrows. "We?"

"There's a couple of us. Me, Claire, Hiro and Ando. Elle Bishop -- " Mohinder's eyebrows crept higher. Funny, he'd thought that Elle had been just another one of Sylar's casualties. " -- and, uh, some other people. We want to try and redo the Company. Nothing like mom had going, but some kind of -- ambassador thing for us and people without abilities. We figured we should put something together just to take care of any issues people might have with us all coming out of the superhero closet at once."

He furrowed his brow, taking a furtive glance around the room to make sure Mira hadn't heard. It was ridiculous he knew, considering that she was at work, but old habits died hard. Particularly when he hadn't told her that he was one of the powered just yet. "And you think you need me there?"

"I need people I can count on, Mohinder, and you've helped all of us more than once."

"I also nearly experimented on you during my time at Pinehearst. Shot Claire's father under orders. Refused to hand over sensitive information to Hiro and got landed in an insane asylum for weeks." He glanced away, briefly. "And even looking beyond all that, I honestly can't say what good I'd do any of you. I'm a geneticist, and I'm sure you'd have no problems recruiting someone with my other unique skillset elsewhere, if that was what you were after."

"Mohinder -- "

"I'm sorry, Peter, but I can't."

Peter's jaw turned to steel, anger creeping into his eyes like a storm sweeping in off the sea. "You mean you won't. You're just making excuses."

He cocked his head to one side. "If we're being perfectly honest? You're right, I won't. I'm trying to make a life here, Peter -- a normal life -- and to just run back off to America with you? It's the very antithesis of what I'm trying to accomplish here."

"A normal life," Peter repeated, flatly. "I hate to break it to you, but you don't get one of those anymore. I mean -- " He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, and for that Mohinder was very grateful. He didn't particularly want a shouting match or worse no matter how much he planned on standing by his guns. " -- just think about it for a minute, okay? If we don't get this thing off the ground, people are going to get vicious. It sort of happened with Danko and Building 26 and it can happen again. People will start demanding answers and eventually someone will find the Company's files on us or on the people who were on Level Five and it'll just be a few months until you end up with a lynch mob at your door. And then what? If you do anything, they're going to think you're some kind of freak and try even harder next time, and if you don't do anything, they'll just lock you up again.

"And what about Mira? What do you think they'll do to her? Or what if she gets hurt in whatever crossfire there happens to be when they come after you? How about your mom? Or Molly?"

Mohinder said nothing, though he couldn't help but wince.

"We need you, Mohinder. We need all the help we can get."

Silence fell between them, the sound of their breathing the only thing to break it for what felt like years, and in the end, Mohinder closed his eyes, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. Peter was right -- maybe even doubly so, knowing that Mira did not know what he could do. Someone would end up hurt, maybe even dead, and the last thing he needed right now was more blood on his hands. Even if it cost him the normal life he so desperately clung to.

"I need time to think it over," he said, softly. He was sure he'd already made his decision, but he needed to come up with some way of explaining this to Mira and his mother.

Peter turned towards the door. "I'll be in town for a couple've days. I picked up flying from a friend of mine, so I can afford to hang around."

"Right."

And with that Peter was gone, leaving Mohinder alone with his books, his thoughts, and a bad taste in his mouth.

Muse: Mohinder Suresh
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1421
Note: The use of Peter Petrelli is not directed at a specific journal.