Author's Note: I really do intend on finishing this.

Chapter 9: Quiet Approach

Mohinder should have told Matt and Bennet about the encounter right away, he realized later, but in the day that followed he was tortured by questions. How would he even explain what happened? Could he look Peter in the face when he inevitably found out? Would Bennet dismiss this as just another one of Nathan's drunken missteps? Would he and Matt wonder why Mohinder didn't push Nathan off right away (because surely Nathan would bring it up as a defense)? What would that look like to the others? Everyone already knew he'd inexplicably slept with a man before. What if Nathan turned this around on him?

Before the day ended, Mohinder decided he just wanted to forget it, as impossible as that seemed when he laid in bed, staring at the door, waiting for Nathan to creep in. He finally recognized how sinister Nathan's appearance had been. Mohinder had barely seen the man since living at the Agency, and out of the blue he'd not only snuck into Mohinder's room but come onto him aggressively. Nathan had only left at the threat of Mohinder's strength. By the intense want in Nathan's eyes, Mohinder had chilling doubts the same would have happened without that advantage.

He wanted to forget those eyes, too. He recognized something dark in them, a lurking threat that placed the kiss amongst a host of bad memories.

But still, paralyzed by his doubts, he said nothing.

In the weeks that followed, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. He felt like he was living in Iowa again, waiting for the tenuous peace to shatter. Nathan's rare Agency visits may only have increased to occasional, but when he and Mohinder were in same room, Mohinder felt like a bug in a jar. Nathan seemed conscious of this, but not sympathetic; when they crossed paths in the lobby, cafeteria, or labs, Nathan never deterred his dissecting gaze. Mohinder wanted to confront him, but about what? What could Mohinder point to in front of everyone? Instead, he came up with excuses to simply leave, usually to the refuge of his room, one of the few areas without security cameras to which Nathan surely had access.

Perhaps he wouldn't have worried about Nathan's computer permissions if he didn't keep seeing Nathan's username in the access log of Tracy's file. Nathan made no more unauthorized changes, but he accessed the file many times- far too many times each day, many of the timestamps in the middle of the night. And then one of the lab technicians told Mohinder that he'd run into Nathan in the secure basement laboratory. The tech had gone in to take his daily readings, and Nathan had been standing in front of a cabinet of vials, a variety of chemicals that could hold the key to restoring Tracy. Nathan had left quickly, saying he'd been "checking up on things," and the tech found nothing out of place. None of Tracy's readings had been out of the norm either.

Mohinder wanted to maintain his lack of contact, but he was responsible for Tracy's welfare. He sent a short, to-the-point email: "Do not interfere in Tracy Strauss' case." Nathan's reply was also brief but more enigmatic. "The solution is buried, and I know I can dig it out." Mohinder didn't know how to respond, despite an eerie feeling urging him to do something.

But thankfully the timestamps from Nathan stopped appearing, and Nathan's physical presence petered out as well, due to a surge of pressing legislative issues, according to Peter.

After a few weeks had passed since that late night visit, with no recurrences, Mohinder found he could sleep through the night again. The creeping feeling lingered in the back of his mind, but he was able to focus on his future parenthood. For one thing, he needed a place to live. His generous Agency salary allowed for his choice of neighborhoods, and his increasing periods of bedrest allowed him plenty of time to narrow down his options based on community aesthetics, property taxes, local culture, and- as he thought about an impending future that still seemed improbable- the school quality.

He wasn't sure how successful an online search would be, but after a week of deliberations he found himself attached to a two-story, three-bedroom suburban townhouse in a private lakeside community called Queen's Field. Queen's Field had playgrounds, wooded running trails, and its own little centralized shopping center, with big name stores just a five-minute drive away. Mohinder knew at this point that he could afford a full-size house, but he wasn't sure he was quite up to that level of maintenance with the combined challenges of parenthood and a classified job.

"It looks nice, don't you think?" he asked, clicking through a photo gallery.

"It's easy to make things look nice with angles and lighting," Maya sighed, the sound heavy even over the phone. "This picture of the bathroom, there could be mold in the wall just out of frame. You can't get a place without looking at it."

Mohinder grinned, remembering how he'd walked into the wreck of his father's apartment and claimed it in moments. "I'm not sure I'm up to the scrutiny of strangers."

"You could wait until after the baby is born."

"I don't want to stay here longer than I have to," Mohinder said. He recognized his brusqueness and added, "I've been cooped up here too long."

"There are problems you can only notice in-person," she replied. "If you wait to look, they can watch the baby at the Agency so you can take your time."

"I wouldn't leave him here," Mohinder said brashly.

This time she caught his tone. "What's wrong? I thought you said things were better?"

"They are. It's just... Nathan. I still don't feel like I can trust him."

"What has he been doing?"

If he explained, Maya would probably understand. But he didn't want her to worry when Nathan hadn't done anything overt (not since that night, anyway), and he had to admit, he still felt not only vulnerable but embarrassed. As Nathan had noted, what was a flying man compared to someone of great strength and physical prowess?

"Nothing," Mohinder said. "It's just his attitude."

"That can be enough." She didn't sound like she bought his explanation; despite that, her voice took on a playful tone. "You should just move back here. I could provide excellent daycare while you telecommute. I used to watch many children in my neighborhood growing up."

Mohinder smiled. "I would like to see what you've done with the house."

"It'll be much safer for the baby once the garage is torn down. I could have a playset there instead."

"He'll have a few years before he's old enough for that."

"Time will fly by. He'll play on it for a week and then think of himself as too old for childish things. And then the girls." She laughed. "Or I'm the one jumping ahead too fast. He still doesn't have a name."

"I settled on one."

An affronted squawk burst in his ear. "How could you not tell me?"

"I haven't told anyone."

"Well?"

"Pavitra."

"Pavitra. What does it mean?"

"Pure, or sacred."

"That's sweet. Or you have very high expectations." She chuckled. "I like it. Is it a family name?"

"No, I wanted to avoid that. I wanted something new, to go along with all this 'fresh start' business we're trying."

"May it all pan out." Suddenly she said, "You're not telling me something. About Nathan."

"It's nothing."

"Whatever it is, you should tell someone. Keeping things fresh doesn't always mean sealing them up."

"You're just a fount of wisdom."

"If wisdom is the obvious. You know I'm right. About the townhouse, too. Wear a big coat."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

And still, into the next day, Mohinder told himself he could just forget about Nathan. Maybe the occasional crawling feeling along the back of his neck was his own nerves. How long had it been since he'd actually seen the other man, after all?

"What's the matter?" Claire asked. She'd been going on about ideas for Halloween costumes, but Mohinder's waning attention must have been obvious. She glanced at the two cafeteria workers cleaning up behind the counter. "Uncomfortable? You wanna go back upstairs?"

Mohinder smiled automatically. "No, I'm fine." He wasn't sure how she could think he was worried about staff attention; they'd seen the gradual expansion of his stomach with no comment.

"You wanna eat that, then? You still need calories for two, you know."

He looked down at his chicken sandwich. "I may just have a big dinner later."

"You're really distracted lately." Claire furrowed her brow. "Did Dr. Sokolowski find something?"

"No, Pavitra's fine."

"Pavitra?" she echoed, then repeated it like Maya had, trying it out. "Pavitra. Can I call him Pavi? Pavster?"

She was looking to occupy him, and it worked. He wrinkled his nose. "Please don't."

"Pavarino?"

"I thought Peter would be here by now."

"Oh, he got called by Dr. Stevenson. Something about Emma. Guess he's running late."

Mohinder frowned. "About Emma? I hope he's not sharing medical information."

Claire looked over his shoulder. "Well, let's ask."

Peter walked carefully into the cafeteria, watching his feet. The workers laughed about something, and his head snapped up to look at them. He laughed lowly to himself, cocking his head.

"Uh, you're being weird," Claire called to him.

Peter looked at her now, smiling and eyes wide. "This is the coolest thing," he said, treading closer.

"What's the-" Claire stopped and shook her head. "Dr. Stevenson wanted your 'perspective' on Emma's power."

"This is like being high," Peter said, evidently staring at sound waves.

"Oh, is it?" Claire said, eyebrow raised.

Peter's eyes suddenly focused on her. "Not that I would know."

"Should you be wandering like this?" Mohinder said.

Peter shrugged. "What's the harm? Hearing different sounds will help me learn to manage it. Then I can help Emma learn to control it. She's having a tough time with just her concentration exercises."

Mohinder supposed he was right. "What is it like?"

"It's... beautiful, really," Peter said, lifting his hand to touch something in the air.

Something shattered behind the counter, a dropped glass or plate. Whatever it had been, Peter leaped back from the sound, lashing out as if to deflect. For a moment, Mohinder could see ripples flying through the air, like summer heat.

And the wall across the room exploded.

Claire screamed, ducking behind the table with Mohinder. The workers cursed, diving below sight. Peter gaped at the wall, his arm still outstretched.

"P-Peter," Mohinder stuttered, peeking over the table. Through the still settling dust, he saw that the strike had burst into the pantry. On the remaining half of a shelf, the front of a wooden box fell off, and several heads of lettuce tumbled into the debris.

"Holy shit," Claire breathed, getting to her feet to gawk at the damage.

Peter stumbled to her side and grabbed her arm, dispelling Emma's power. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." He added another "Sorry!" in the direction of the counter. The only response was the brief appearance of a thumbs up.

Mohinder vacillated between shock and amazement. "She can manipulate sound waves."

"Hopefully better than the human sponge here," Claire said.

"Give me a break," Peter said, but his posture remained wilted. "We're lucky worse hasn't happened so far. I'll talk to Emma."

"You do that," Mohinder said, fathoming at the pure luck that she hadn't hurt someone in a fright.

"What the hell happened here?"

Mohinder's stomach dropped, and the baby kicked as if in sympathy. Nathan stood at the cafeteria entrance, staring at the hole in the wall.

Despite the ability exchange, Peter sheepishly kept his arms at his sides. "Uh... an experimental mishap?"

"Jesus, Pete, experiments belong in labs!"

"That's pretty obvious now."

"We're going to be host to a newborn," Nathan went on. "The doctor here might run off to some other state if we can't guarantee his safety." He shot Mohinder a sympathetic smile, and Mohinder realized he was still on the floor. He used the table to pull himself to his feet.

Peter frowned. "I guess Emma might have to leave."

"That was her power?" Nathan said, and he should have been concerned. Instead he stared at the wall, looking intrigued.

"You're the first one to destroy anything," Claire said to Peter. "Maybe those concentration exercises have been working out after all." She looked to Nathan. "You wouldn't make her leave before she was sure she could handle herself, would you?"

Nathan snapped out of his stupor. "We'll have to touch base with the doctors to see what's best for everyone," he said. Then he put a hand on Mohinder's shoulder. "Including you and Pavitra."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Mohinder's gaze flicked from the small, gold-plated clock on Matt's desk to the photo of Molly placed beside it. He'd pace if not for his swollen feet and ankles; he'd have to sit down soon despite his agitation, which was despite Matt not actually being late. It wouldn't have killed him to be early, though, especially when the minutes between 9:26 and 9:30 stretched as long as centuries.

The clock seemed incongruous the more Mohinder stared at it. Matt would prefer a clock out of the way, hanging on a distant wall, not one imposing on him as he labored through desk work. And the look of the thing was too polished. Perhaps a gift from Angela Petrelli for taking on such an important position? Mohinder picked it up and sneered when he saw the engraving on the flat underside: Time flies. Keep a measured pace. - N. Petrelli.

The clock was saved from being smashed back down when Matt trudged in with a weary smile. "Sorry this had to be so late. Busy day."

Mohinder was aware; it took half a dozen calls to even speak to Matt and arrange this. He took a seat, finally relieving his aching feet, as Matt settled into his cushy, ergonomic leather chair and leaned back. Perhaps that was another gift from Nathan. Darla and the doctors certainly didn't have chairs nearly as nice.

"So what's on your mind?" Matt said.

Mohinder shook off his encroaching doubts. Matt wouldn't be swayed by gifts- and even if he was, it would be solid confirmation that Mohinder should just get the hell out of here. "Nathan's been listening to my phone calls," he spat.

Matt seemed guarded, but not surprised. He leaned forward. "What makes you think that?"

"He knew the baby's name. I barely told anyone."

"You picked a name?"

"Matt!"

"It'd just be nice to know," Matt said defensively.

"It's Pavitra. Can we please move on to Nathan's behavior?"

"So he's getting Big Brother. He's probably snooping on lots of people."

"He was tracking Tracy's progress, despite being told to keep out of it."

"That is a part of his job."

"I don't see an interest in other projects."

"He and Tracy do have a history."

"This isn't about her."

"How do you know?"

"He kissed me!" Mohinder blurted out.

Matt's jaw dropped. "What?"

Mohinder ignored the heat in his face and rattled on. "He snuck into my room, and he's been watching me ever since. I don't know if he's trying to sabotage Tracy to get back at me for telling him off, or... or something else, but you and Bennet need to push him out. I don't know how to solve his... emotional problems, but-"

"Why would he kiss you?" Matt interrupted.

"I'm expected to explain inexplicable attraction?"

"Well, I..." Matt got up and paced to the other side of the room. "I don't know. Has this..." He paced back. "Has this happened with you before?"

Mohinder scowled. "Why don't you go ahead and ask if I was wearing a short skirt?"

"I'm not saying you did something. I just-"

"Maybe he's been repressing his sexuality all this time. Maybe in some warped way he's taking his guilt out on me. I don't know either, but I can't stay here with him around. He's not fit to be here. God, he's not fit to be a senator. If you have to look into my head to know how disturbing-"

"No," Matt said, so sharply that Mohinder flinched. Matt shook his head apologetically. "I should trust you. You're my friend. It was wrong for me to go in your head before, and I won't do it now. I avoid getting into anyone's head now."

Matt looked haunted by the idea, and it gave Mohinder pause. He appreciated that Matt regretted intruding on his mind, but that had been months ago. Did it still bother him that much? Mohinder supposed he should take Matt's intensity as a good thing, but it seemed... off.

"You're right," Matt said. He sat abruptly, elbows on the desk and hands clasped in front of his mouth. "I'll talk to Bennet."

"We both should."

"No, it's okay," Matt said. "There are private things. Security things. That have to be kept between us."

"Is Nathan actually losing his mind?" Mohinder asked.

Matt hesitated. "He... has problems. Obviously."

"So what are you going to do?"

"When Bennet and I figure it out, I'll tell you."

"And that will be?"

"Soon, I promise. I know this is serious, Mohinder. We could deal with the drinking, because we needed to keep consistent representation for the President, but you're right. This is getting out of control. I think Nathan needs to go away for a while."

"To say the least," Mohinder said, almost laughing. "Matt, I understand that you need to tell Bennet all of this, but you can't tell Peter. I know he'll have to be told something once Nathan is gone, but..."

"Don't worry. It's not like he sees Nathan that much these days anyway. Plus, he'll be busy helping Emma not blow away the third floor if she's startled by her alarm."

"So you heard."

"That's my job, to know everything. Even what I don't want to know."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Dr. Sokolowski was very pleased with the smooth progress of Mohinder's pregnancy. That only meant something was due to go horribly wrong any day now, Mohinder was sure. Sokolowski didn't strive to assuage his paranoia, but she did say Pavitra's development was a bit advanced.

"Perhaps the surgery will come sooner than projected," she mused, staring at the ultrasound screen.

Mohinder watched the curled figure squirm on the monitor and saw the swipe of an arm stretch his stomach. "How much sooner?"

She shrugged. "Your hormone levels still might not be where I'd like them. Would you like a print-out?"

"Yes, please." Mohinder had collected quite a few over the past months, and he tried not to analyze them for overlooked defects.

Sokolowski did some quick keystrokes and the screen flashed. The printer at the back of the room hummed to life. She turned the ultrasound machine off, putting the wand to the side and handing Mohinder a paper towel.

"I supposed it doesn't matter," Mohinder said as he wiped off the gel. "I could have time for all the parenting books in the world and I wouldn't be prepared."

Sokolowski laughed, a short bark. "Instructions to mold the perfect child? No such thing."

"Some of us don't have motherly instincts. We need some kind of guide."

She scowled. "Gender essentialism. You think I magically knew how to care for my children? No book, instinct, or advice says anything about how in five minutes your child will remove her diaper and smear it over the wall."

Mohinder was about to ask how exactly one dealt with that when someone rapped on the exam room door- and opened it. With a yelp, he rearranged his clothes and sat up.

"Ah, Mrs. Petrelli," Sokolowski greeted. "We are about done."

Angela stood by the open door, business-like in presentation and attitude as usual. "Could you step out for a moment, doctor?" she asked.

"I have only a couple-"

"Thank you, doctor," Angela interrupted with an expectant smile. "It won't take long."

Sokolowski pursed her lips, but she nodded. "Of course, ma'am," she said before walking out.

"It's been some time," Mohinder said.

"I've been observing from a distance," Angela replied as she closed the door. "But I believe we should confer about Nathan."

Mohinder tensed. "Matt or Bennet?"

"Bennet, but Parkman had no illusions I wouldn't find out. You can't expect discussions about quietly shipping off my son to not get back to me."

"I suppose not," Mohinder said honestly. Did he really expect the omniscient Petrelli matriarch to stay in the dark?

"Explain what happened."

Mohinder sighed. "I'm not going to go to the press or file a police report, obviously. You don't need to head off a scandal."

"I'm aware of what I do and do not need to do. Now explain."

He felt his hackles come up. "I'm not going to defend myself when I haven't-"

"I'm not asking you for that," she snapped. "I want only an explanation."

"He just kissed me," Mohinder hissed. "I don't know what you're looking for. First, he apologized for trying to manipulate me and praised my work on Tracy Strauss, and after that he just... lurked."

"How did he behave?"

"What kind of question is that? He acted strangely, clearly. It's surprising enough that he's been hiding an attraction to men, but the stalking is something else."

"Was he ever violent?"

"He was certainly aggressive." Mohinder shot her a dark look. "I hope you're not here to downplay what's been going on. I've had enough of the drinking excuse as it is."

"It is certainly a popular explanation."

Mohinder's jaw tightened. "Are you telling me you knew alcohol had nothing to do with this all the long?"

She stared back at him evenly. "Doctor, Nathan does have a drinking problem, but as you know, his father wasn't exactly of stable mind. I am only trying to determine if Nathan's problems are his own or if we should be looking at family history. It's important for the rehab facility to know."

Mohinder remained wary. "So he is going away?"

"Already gone, for a time, under the guise of stress management," Angela said. "But Nathan cannot be removed from this Agency. Bureaucracy is not that simple, and the President trusts him. This could all come down around us if Nathan shows any lack of trustworthiness. Bennet's friend, Ms. Gilmore, has done well as a liaison, but Nathan is one of 'us.'"

"So if Nathan continues to stalk me when he returns, I should stay quiet?" Mohinder said.

"I'm sure his specialized therapy will disabuse Nathan of the idea that that behavior is okay," Angela said coolly. "I am only asking you to leave some room for understanding when he returns."

Mohinder hardly saw the difference with her clarification.

"I also want you to stay so that you can continue to help Tracy Strauss and anyone under similar circumstances."

"I've already subjected myself to emotional manipulation," he replied wryly.

"It's not emotional; it's factual," she said sharply. "You are the brightest mind when it comes to those with abilities. Without you here, we lose a great deal of clout." He might have felt a measure of pride if not for the unusual expression on her face. Her calm demeanor crumpled around her eyes. "The Company went wrong. We need vigilance to keep the Agency right. We can't allow mistakes of the past to encroach on what we are building today."

"Frankly, doing your best to keep Nathan in charge is awfully remniscent of the past," Mohinder retorted.

He didn't think his tone had been overly harsh, but he felt a strange sense of alarm when the sullenness of her eyes took over her face. "Keeping Nathan..." she said, then faltered. She turned her back on him, spine and arms straight, hands curled into fists. Mohinder watched her shoulders move with two deep, quiet breaths, then relax. She walked to the back of the room, to the printer, and picked up the ultrasound image.

"They're precious, you know." She turned partway, surveying him, back to her usual composure. "Of course you know," she corrected. "You've felt him grow inside you, live off you, with you. It's a feeling you try to rekindle once they're born, but it's never quite the same. The ghost, however, always lingers..."

Obviously Mohinder knew Angela as Peter and Nathan's mother, but he'd never considered before what that really meant, that she'd gone through what he was experiencing now twice herself, and that she'd raised them up through adulthood, still parenting even now. Mohinder remained haunted by the prospect that Pavitra would be infected by his father; regardless of Angela's complicitness in Nathan's past deeds, his sympathy blossomed easily for a mother watching her son fall apart.

"I'm sorry about Nathan," he found himself saying.

Her expression remained etched. She came back over and handed him the picture. "I made the best decisions I could," she said, with a hint of strain. "You'll understand."

Another knock and the door opened again, Peter striding in with an easy smile. "Ready to-" He stopped short, smile fading. "Hey, Mom."

"Hello, dear," she responded. "It's lovely to see you, but I must be on my way."

"I haven't seen you in like two weeks," Peter complained. "You babysit Nathan, and I can't get five minutes?"

"Don't show envy, Peter. People will think you can't manage."

"Apparently Mohinder is worth your time," he pressed.

"When you have a baby, I'll be concerned for your health as well," she said with careless bite. She passed Peter with a kiss on the cheek and barely a look after. "I'll call."

Peter gestured with frustration at the door as she passed through it. "What was that about?" he asked, almost accusingly.

"You act like I called her here," Mohinder said, sliding off the table.

"I can barely get her on the phone."

"She's just checking on what she considers a liability, I'm sure." That wasn't really a lie, Mohinder supposed. Of course, his predicament with Nathan didn't prevent Angela from paying attention to her youngest son, too.

"Maybe I'll be enough of a liability for her if I blow some more holes in the walls," Peter muttered. "Sokolowski said you can go. Claire's waiting in the lobby."

"I just need to get my coat," Mohinder said.

"Left it with Claire. Come on."

Mohinder sighed as Peter left the room without waiting for him. Hopefully Peter's mood would improve during the apartment hunt. But of course it would only nosedive again once he learned the truth about Nathan.