Molly insisted that they go to the hospital where the paramedics had taken Officer Parkman. Mohinder somehow stayed awake while watching the clock drag on into the morning hours. He turned his head and found Molly dozing on his shoulder. Brushed back wayward locks that covered her face, he sat there, pondering her surprisingly still frame and smooth face.

"Mister Suresh."

Mohinder looked up and saw the attending doctor standing by their row of seats.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I was able to contact Mister Parkman's wife. She said to remove him from life support."

"Damnit!" Mohinder hissed.

Molly woke up at Mohinder's flinch. "What is it, Doctor Suresh?"

The doctor cast a curious glance at Mohinder. "You're a doctor?"

"A geneticist, actually," he replied.

"Well, I thought I'd let you visit with him one last time."

"One last time?" Molly asked. "Is Officer Parkman going to die?"

The doctor looked at Molly and nodded. "I'm sorry."

Molly faced Mohinder, her lip quivering. She stared at him for a while before sliding out of the visitor chair where she had been perched. With that, Mohinder stood up and reached for her hand. Together, they followed the doctor to see Parkman.

They arrived at Parkman's bed and found the former police officer chained to a ventilator. Wires snaked from monitors to various patches on his body making him almost impossible to see. Overhead fluorescent lights washed out his already pale face and limp hands. The beep of the heart monitor and huffs of the ventilator blended into the white noise of hospital activity.

"Molly," Mohinder whispered to the scared child at his side.

"Take your time," the doctor said.

Molly shot an indignant look at the doctor before dragging Mohinder closer to the bed. Only then could they see the lack of expression on Parkman's face. Once close enough, Molly let go of Mohinder's hand and crept to a spot near Parkman's ear.

"Officer Parkman," she squeaked, "you'll always be my hero."

She dug her skinny fingers into the bed sheet by Parkman's head and began to cry. Mohinder knelt at her side, slipping an arm around her shoulders. He nodded to the doctor, who glanced at the nurse standing near the foot of the bed. The two disconnected the ventilator before stepping away. For a moment, the four of them kept watch on Parkman. Molly clung to Mohinder, who faced the bed. Mohinder had not been formally introduced to the policeman at any point, but he felt a sense of duty toward him. Hugging Molly, he leaned toward Parkman's ear.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I'll keep her safe."

With that, a high pitched whine cut through the air. Molly squeezed Mohinder's shoulders, and he patted her back. He glanced up and saw the rows of flat lines on the heart monitor. To his right, he observed the doctor look at his watch. The doctor removed a pen from his pocket and scribbled something on the clipboards in his hand.

"What time is it?" Mohinder asked him.

"Five fifty-six," the doctor replied. "I'll leave you alone for a couple minutes."

At that, the doctor waved the clipboard. Mohinder nodded.

"Of course," he mumbled as the doctor and nurse left the bed.

After they left, Mohinder continued to hold a sobbing but somewhat still Molly. He stared at Parkman's body on the bed, not yet prepared for movement to the morgue. His thoughts drifted to something Molly told him while they sat in the lobby. Idly, he wondered if Peter could read minds.

Too focused on the little girl's crying, he did not feel the tear racing down his cheek.

A half hour later, the two of them left the hospital with no idea where they were going. Streams of pink snaked between crevices of the urban jungle, muting the reds of traffic lights. Mohinder and Molly wove their way through the concrete maze with the only noise coming from the rumble of early morning traffic. Their silence was interrupted by a low gurgle.

"I'm hungry," Molly mumbled.

Mohinder looked around at the semi-familiar street onto which they had wandered. He vaguely remembered driving down it what seemed like years ago but was, in fact, only six weeks in his past. He searched his brain, trying to remember what he had seen in his travels along the street. Then it came to him.

"There's a little deli along the way," he told her. "We can stop there."

With that, the duo continued walking. Upon arrival at the deli, they found the place was empty, save a waitress, a middle-aged man and a teenage girl. The waitress looked up from wiping the seats by the counter and told them to sit wherever they wished. They sat at a booth far from the man and the girl and perused the menus.

After they finished their small meals, Molly excused herself and went to the bathroom. Mohinder stayed at the booth, waiting for her. While waiting, he closed his eyes and tried to process everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. He could only comprehend holding that gun to Bennet's head, shielding Molly's from from the sight of an injured black man and then the explosion. As visions of Peter's glowing form dominated his thoughts, Mohinder felt the table shift under his elbows. He opened his eyes to find the man sitting across from him.

"Mister Bennet?" he asked.

"Call me Noah," the man replied. "I'm surprised to see you around here."

"Molly and I left the hospital about an hour ago. We stopped for some breakfast."

"Like you ate much," Bennet replied, gesturing to the half nibbled nova lox bagel on the plate in front of Mohinder.

Mohinder rubbed his eyes. "I don't know where I can take Molly. My apartment is in ruins, and I'm not going back to Kirby Plaza."

Bennet smirked. "Finally figured them out, huh?"

"They're not getting their hands on Molly."

"And technically, you won't, either."

Mohinder looked at Bennet. "What do you mean?"

"Your visa expires next week. Then what will happen to Molly?"

"I..."

"Don't worry, Doctor Suresh. I know a way we can fix that."

"Fix..."

"And move Molly somewhere safe, since you insist on protecting her."

"Much like you are with Claire."

At that, Bennet's face softened. "True. So, do you want to fix this?"

Mohinder nodded. Looking up, he saw Molly standing just outside the restrooms.

"Molly," he asked, "what's wrong?"

Molly locked eyes with the geneticist pointed at Bennet. With that, Mohinder got up and joined her where she stood. He brushed away strands of hair that fell in her face, wondering if he would ever find brown locks slipping between his fingers.

"Molly," he whispered, "Mister Bennet says he knows a way to get us to a safe place. Do you want to know what that is?"

The little girl shrugged but took Mohinder's hand. They walked back to the booth with Molly sticking by Mohinder's side. Once they were seated, Bennet ended a call on his cell phone.

"I've arranged for you to go to Florida," he said as Mohinder and Molly sat down.

"Whereabouts?" Mohinder asked.

"The address and the name of the person who you will meet are on this sheet of paper. I have informed your contact that you will be there in three days."

During the conversation, Claire walked over to the booth where the rest of the group congregated, discussing where Mohinder and Molly would go and what they needed to do once they made it to relative safety. She handed Mohinder a piece of paper with a key wrapped in it. He unfolded the paper and read the address written inside. Trying not to cry, he nodded at Claire, the only expression of gratitude he could manage.

Shawn LeLand glanced at the clock across from the nurses' station. She cursed under her breath that it was only six thirty five in the morning. Only about a million things could go wrong before shift change, she thought. At least tonight had been slower than usual, making Bennet's pseudo-request less annoying. He was lucky to have called her while she stole a moment for a break; he could have called her in the middle of an operation to remove a pole from some poor sap's head.

"Earth paging Doctor LeLand. Earth paging Doctor LeLand."

Shawn turned her head to find the source of the voice and found a petite woman to her right. She rolled her eyes at her fellow trauma surgeon, who was occupied with pulling her ebony locks into something resembling a bun.

"Good morning to you, too, Malloy," she muttered with a friendly eye roll.

"Somehow, I doubt you're daydreaming about your job," the other woman repiled.

"Actually, Yolanda, tonight hasn't been so bad. ICU is only half full, and only one person coded."

"Then what has you pulling the space cadet routine?"

Shawn cast her eyes around the unit. A couple nurses milled about the station, juggling clipboards and typing information into the computers. Beeping monitors and the muted whoosh of scattered ventilators blended into the background yet pounded on her eardrums. The strangling quiet of the place challenged her concentration and patience.

"Break room?" she asked Yolanda.

Yolanda nodded, and the surgeons made their way out of the unit.

The break room was quieter than the unit, but there were more people present. Most of them were nurses eating while slogging through paperwork. The nurses occupied the tables closer to the door, prompting the doctors to search out a place toward the back. Once they procured an obscure corner near some lockers, they pulled up a couple plastic chairs.

"What's going on, Shawn?" Yolanda asked. "You don't just spaz like that. Having problems tapping?"

Shawn shook her head. "Bennet called."

At that, Yolanda's mouth fell open. "Why? You're not due for an evaluation for another two years."

"He's not with them anymore, or at least that's what he told me. He called asking me to provide asylum."

"Don't tell me-"

Shawn held up her hand. "It's not for him. It's for this guy, Doctor Suresh or something, and a little girl."

"What's going on?"

"I'm not one hundred percent sure. I haven't tapped anyone involved since he called, but whatever it is, it's big."

Yolanda dropped her head. "It must be if Bennet's asking a favor of you."

"I just wish I knew what it was."

"Well, I'll go get us some caffeine so you can tap."

Shawn nodded in assent, and Yolanda left their impromptu meeting area.

When Yolanda left, Shawn closed her eyes and rested her head against a locker. Her strawberry blonde tresses acted as a cushion while she cleared her mind. Once her brain waves were stable, she mouthed the word "Bennet". She soon saw a hyper paced montage of scenes: Bennet with two men in a no name diner, him firing a gun twice into Thompson's head, him conversing with a little girl who was lying in a hospital bed and him standing outside Kirby Plaza with his daughter. Her eyes flew open as her mind struggled to sort out what she had seen.

Yolanda returned to the corner with two cups of coffee. She found Shawn with her eyes squeezed shut and slumped in her seat. After closing and reopening her eyes, she looked in Shawn's chest cavity and saw her heart pumping like an over oiled piston.

"Shawn!" she hollered.

Yolanda's clarion called jerked Shawn out of her shock.

"Yolanda...something big happened at the company."

Mohinder unlocked the door to the empty apartment, relieved to find it somewhat untouched. He guided Molly in by the shoulder before locking the door behind them. Glancing around, he located the sole bedroom and bathroom. After investigating the bedroom and checking its door, he decided to sleep on the couch.

"Whose apartment is this?" Molly asked.

"Someone Mister Bennet and I know," Mohinder replied in full parent mode.

"Is it Peter Petrelli?"

Mohinder shifted in place. "Yes, it is."

"Why are we here, then?"

At that, Mohinder huffed out a tired sigh. "Because Sylar destroyed my apartment."

Molly looked up at the disheveled geneticist. "The boogeyman came after you, too?"

Mohinder bit his tongue while trying to find the best answer to the query. Finally, he said, "I had something he wanted."

"Like what?"

Tired of the questions and run down by the fatigue catalyzed by the events of the past two days, Mohinder rubbed his temples in a fruitless attempt to clear his head. He knelt to be eye level with his little girl.

"I think we should talk after we get some sleep."

"Okay," she replied. "I just don't have anything to sleep in."

Mohinder rocked back on his heels and glanced at the ceiling. "We'll both have to sleep in our clothes for now, Molly. After we get some sleep, we can go get some new ones."

This answer seemed to satisfy Molly's persistent curiosity. The two of them washed up before settling in for some diurnal sleep. He tucked her into Peter's bed and staked out the couch for himself. He positioned himself to be able to hear any noises from the bedroom yet kept the doorway out of his line of vision. Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the exhaustion of being awake for so long.