Title: The Happiness Trap
Genre: Romance
Rating: T
Pairing: Mohinder x OC
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.
Word Count: 1,418
Warnings: N/A

Disclaimer: Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

A/N: I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

Ecstasy (noun) 1. Rapturous delight 2. An overpowering emotion or exaltation; a state of sudden, intense feeling 3. The frenzy of poetic inspiration

It is weeks, weeks, of Mohinder stewing himself into an angered panic, trying to make a plan, trying to plan a suicide mission where he could rescue Sarah, before he works himself into an absolute hysteric. This was his fault, his. If he wouldn't have been so stupid, getting captured like an idiot, then she would never have made this deal, would never have forced herself to work for them to protect him. When he created – found – the cure, he should have just taken her and run. There are hundreds of places to go. There could have started a new life. He could have kept her safe.

"Yo, Mohinder, you here man?" His head lifts at Peter's voice, and he make a noncommittal noise in his lab. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd – whoa!" He knows when Peter steps into the room, takes in the mess of papers, the dirty clothes Mohinder is wearing, the fact that he hasn't shaved or brushed his hair in weeks. "Bro, are you okay?" His eyes are quick and bright with intelligence. "Is Sarah okay?"

Mohinder slumps, hands shaking, and Peter rushes forward, taking a wrist in his hand, taking stock of his pulse, watching his pupils. Ever the paramedic. "She… The Organization…" He can't get the words out.

"Easy, easy, buddy, take it slow." He helps Mohinder stand. "From the state of your hygiene, I'm guessing you haven't eaten in a while. Why don't you clean yourself up, I'll grab some food, and then you can start at the beginning."

He gives a tired nod of acceptance and heads towards his shower.

Later, seated at his table – showered, shaved, in clean clothes – seated before a plate of fast food, with Peter across from him, Mohinder starts at the beginning. He they met, what she could so, what she needed from her, why she was working for them. Peter laughed so hard tears streamed from the corners of his eyes when Mohinder fleetingly mentioned her endorphins, her feelings of happiness he caused her, led him to a cure. And the letter he had received from The Organization, basically stating that they had taken Sarah and not to come looking for her. He could read between the lines.

He didn't even want to think about what they were doing to her.

"Sounds like you need someone with a different skillset that yours." When Mohinder looks up the table, Peter grins at him. "Just tell me what you need me to do, bud."

And for the first time since this happened, Mohinder feels something like hope curl in his chest.

Sarah is delirious with pain when the sirens start, not even sure the sound is really there or if she is just hallucinating. Or maybe it is another experiment. Maybe her ears will change to dog's ears and the sound will make them bleed. Or her eyes will shift to eagle eyes and the flashing lights will blind her. She doesn't even care anymore. She hurts. Everything hurts. The Organization is thorough. They test her skills at the base, they make her change and test her senses again. How quickly can she change? How many times before she passes out? Can she combine transformations? Can she create new people to change into?

She has changed so many times, had so many chemicals pumped into her veins, so many tests, incisions, that she can't remember where she is most days. Was there life before this? Most days she just hoped that this would be the day they finally killed her.

Rough hands grab her and she can't help the scream it wrenches from her throat at the pain. The blurry image of a guard stares down at her. He eyes ache, but… it almost looks as if he is concerned. "Sarah?" Her name is hesitant, unsure. His features blur, and suddenly it is Peter looking down at her.

She blinks. "Peter?" She can barely whisper his name. His throat hurts.

"Oh, thank God! I wasn't sure if it was – " He disappears from her view, but she feels him wrench the restraints on her wrists and ankles apart. "Okay, now this is going to hurt, but I need you to be quiet, okay?" His voice is soothing, lulling, a bedside voice. When he lifts her bridal style she hisses in pain, but swallows another scream. He barely makes it two steps out the door of her cell before she is unconscious.

She sleeps for almost a week after they get her back to the apartment and Peter doctor's her up. Mohinder refuses to leave her side – takes a sabbatical from work, has his groceries delivered in. Peter tells him it is her body's way of recuperating after all that she has gone through. She should be fine, physically. But it will be good for her to have someone who cares from her watching over her when she wakes up. Mohinder takes that to heart.

But he can't stop his eyes from trailing over her, tracking the differences. Questions, so many questions… When her eyes finally open after six day, she tenses at the change in location, before he sees the memories flood back. She looks around, searching, and when she sees him, she smiles in a tired, relieved sort of way. "Mohinder…"

"Sarah." He takes her hands, he doesn't want to hurt her, but he needs to touch her.

"What happened?"

He settles on the floor next to the bed, so they are eye level, and he can stroke her hair as he speaks. "Peter offered his assistance. I never told you before, but he can mimic other people's powers when he concentrates on them. So he changed into one of the guards." His fingers are carding through her hair, mesmerized by the color. "I created a diversion and he got you out."

"But what if they – "

"Peter went back in later and did some subterfuge. We know a person who can erase memories. Peter used that to our advantage."

"So I'm… free?"

"Yes…" He paused. "Sarah, are you… alright?" He's staring into her eyes, focus darting from one to the other, and she frowns. With a sigh, he reaches to the nightstand and hands her a mirror. He watches her pick it up in confusion, then gasp as she looks at herself. Her hands are shaking.

Her hair is the darkest black he has ever seen – some Indian movie starlets have hair that smoothly, deeply back. It is a pour of ink over her shoulders, a waterfall of night. And her eyes – one is the same vivid, absinthe green from before, the other is a bright cerulean blue. Her features are softer, but still Sarah.

"What – "

"My eyes always frightened people." Her voice is wavering. "Even before I found out… what I can do…" She laughs self-deprecatingly. "Actually, I was wishing so hard one day to look normal that's when I first changed. A perfect little blonde-haired, green-eyed child. When I ran up to my mom, she didn't recognize me, she was worried about finding my parents. She was so nice, so kind." She pauses. "When I lost control of the transformation, she… well she freaked out. Called me a witch." Another long pause, during which she puts the mirror down. "It wasn't too long after that she abandoned me." She won't look at him. "I practiced until I could look normal after that." A laugh. "I almost forgot what I really looked like."

"Hey." He reaches out to grasp her chin, to turn her face towards him, forcing her to look at him. "Miss Grey, I wouldn't care if you were bald or had red eyes or purple skin." He swallows, tongue thick in his throat. "It wouldn't matter to me, because you're still you." He meets her eyes straight on. "I love you, whatever you are."

Her smile is blinding in its happiness.