I Am Not Blind

Looking out the glass doors, he realized he hated snow. A California boy – he never dealt with snow that he didn't have to drive for two hours to see. Now, a resident of New York, he was constantly confronted with powdery weather that was impossible to escape. Snow in general had a tendency to make him feel trapped, but this particular snowstorm was the worst. It started falling about half an hour ago – right when they should have arrived at the party. Behind him, the echo of music thudded against the back of his head. Before him, the snow fell a little harder every minute. The glass into which he dug his shoulder was bitter cold, but it complimented his mood.

Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder made him jump. Turning around, he found detective Cheryl Nichols. Dressed in an almost too short, black cocktail dress, she inquired, "What are you doing by the door, Matt? You know that Fuller will have your ass if you don't get in here."

Nodding, he said, "I know. I know. That's the only reason I'm here to begin with. Only thing is that I'm waiting for my family to get here. They were supposed to be here by now. Of course, it wasn't supposed to snow this hard either."

'Family? Damn! I didn't know he had a family.'

Blinking, Matt couldn't help but be taken aback by her thoughts - Especially when she bared a wide smile and asked, "I'm sure they're fine. Have you tried making a call?"

"Yeah. The damn thing goes straight to voicemail."

Rubbing his arm, she offered, "They could just be on the subway. Sometimes I lose reception down there."

"You're probably right. They'll be here any minute."

Shifting from one foot to the other, Cheryl asked, "Well, while you're waiting – Do you want to dance? It might take your mind off of everything for a while."

'Oh Matty, wife of no wife, I will rock your world.'

Standing straighter, Matt stammered out a response. "I don't think I should. I think I better stay here and wait for them. Thanks for the offer though."

Frowning, she nodded and walked away.

Wiping his hand over his face, Matt thought, 'Wow. Cheryl is a scary woman. Wait. Wait. She thinks I'm married. Oh God, how am I going to explain this one?'

Luckily, a blast of cold air hit him in the face, drawing him from his thoughts. "Matt!"

Turning around, he saw Molly rush up to him. She wore the same deep purple, velvet dress that she wore on Thanksgiving. The skirt swished, slapping playfully against the edge of her winter coat. Taking his first deep breath of the night, Matt swept her up, squeezing her tight.

"Molly. Thank God."

Pushing against Matt's shoulders, Molly pulled far enough away to look him in the eyes. Once he got a good look at her, Matt tipped his head back. He narrowed his eyes as his eyes started at her hair and moved down to her lips. Her smile told him that she knew his question before he asked it. "Don't you just love my hair, Matt? Mrs. Ortiz did it. She did my make-up, too."

Molly's hair was pulled back into a French braid. The tightly woven hair ended three inches from her hairline, cut off by an unfamiliar black velvet bow. 'Must be Mrs. Ortiz', huh…' The rest of her hair fell in solid curls, bouncing against her shoulders. The worst thing for Matt though was the make-up. Wine colored lipstick spread across her lips. A sparse sprinkle of rouge graced her cheekbones. He couldn't help but think, 'You look like you're thirty and on your second divorce.' Fortunately, he didn't let his thoughts pass his lips. "You look so grown up. In fact, I think I'm going to have to talk to Mrs. Ortiz about how grown up you look."

"I agree whole-heartedly."

Looking past Molly, Matt saw Mohinder for the first time. He watched as Mohinder shrugged off his parka, revealing a well tailored suit. The pitch black coat was three quarters length and was paired with a matching pair of pants. Underneath, a hand stitched ivory vest peeked out, flashing its delicate floral embroidery each time he moved. A collarless, cream colored shirt acted in direct contrast to his dark skin. All together, the ensemble hugged every plane of his body, exposing not a single bit of imperfection. For a moment, Matt could only stare. His mouth open - he suddenly felt awkward in his rental tux.

From her perch, Molly followed Matt's eyes. As her eyes landed on Mohinder, she smiled even wider. Tightening her hold on his neck, she asked, "We're not late are we, Matt?"

Shaking his head, he cleared his brain. "No. They haven't even started serving dinner yet."

Quickly, he met her eyes. "Why don't we go check your coats? After that, we can get our seats in the dinning hall."

As they stood at the coat room counter, Matt asked, "Where did you get that suit?"

Taking two tickets from the girl behind the counter, Mohinder replied, "I brought it from India. The last time I was there, my Mother slipped it in my bag before I left. She believes every man should have one well-tailored suit."

Giving the suit a good once over, Matt said, "It looks good."

"Thank you, Matthew."

Reaching out, Matt and Mohinder each took one of Molly's hands. With a nod, Matt led them into the banquet hall. Inside the doors, the loud music flooded Matt's senses. Looking around, he finally saw his boss. Leaning over, Matt spoke loudly into Mohinder's ear, "Three tables from the left and four tables in."

Straining to hear Matt over the din, Mohinder searched for the table he described. Once he found it, he leaned toward Matt and asked, "Who are our dinner companions?"

Inching closer, Matt replied, "The big man is my boss, Bryan Fuller. The woman seated next to him is his wife. I can't remember her name. The woman across from them is a detective on my shift named Cheryl Nichols."

Nodding, Mohinder pulled away. Standing straighter, he squeezed Molly's hand as he smiled down at her. Nodding at Matt, he followed Matt's lead. Weaving between people, they managed to keep Molly safely tucked between them. As they passed groups of people, Matt paused to say hello to his fellow officers. Slapping a couple on the arm, he ignored his co-worker's stares as he approached their designated table.

Fuller's wife saw them first. With a nudge of her shoulder, she directed Fuller in their direction. He did a double take, but to his credit, he didn't waste any time standing up and shaking Matt's hand.

"Glad you finally decided to join us, Matt." After a firm shake, he bent down to address Molly. "Who's this pretty girl?"

Standing straighter, Matt squeezed Molly's hand. "This is my daughter, Molly."

Letting go of Mohinder, Molly shook Fuller's hand as she said, "It's nice to meet you."

Smiling brightly, Fuller stood up and looked at Mohinder, "So, who's this?"

Opening his mouth, Matt found himself at a loss for words. Looking back and forth from Mohinder to Fuller and back again, Matt hemmed and hawed until finally, someone came to his rescue.

"He's my other Dad," Molly announced.

Stepping forward, Mohinder extended his hand. "Mohinder Suresh. It's nice to make your acquaintance."

"Bryan Fuller. Likewise," replied Fuller as he shook the offered hand. With a sweeping wave of his arm, he shouted, "Come on, take a seat."

Sitting down, Matt glanced around the table. He couldn't ignore the red face Cheryl sported. Looking away, he fished in his pocket for their dinner tickets. Pulling them out, he placed one in front of Molly and handed one to Mohinder. Mohinder examined his ticket for a second until motion at his shoulder grabbed his attention. Between him and Molly stood a boy who couldn't have been more than thirteen years old. It became painfully obvious that the boy only had eyes for Molly as he stuttered his way through a question. "Would you like to dance?"

Smiling big, Molly almost jumped up right then. Only Matt's hand on her arm kept her in place. Glancing around Molly, he asked, "Aren't you Nelson Scharf's boy? Steven, right?"

"Yes sir."

Peeking over at Molly, he saw her hopeful, pleading expression. Glaring at the boy, he said, "I'm going to hold you personally responsible for her, understand? Anything happens to her and I'm going to come looking for you."

Nodding, the boy swallowed. "Yes sir."

Letting go of Molly's arm, he barely finished glaring at the boy before two slender arms wrapped around his neck. A peck on his cheek, a whispered "thanks Matt" and she was gone - headed for the dance floor. He followed her departing form, pulling back only when he heard a voice say, "I don't like it. She's too young for this."

Meeting Mohinder's eyes, he assured, "Look, I don't like it either, but she's in a room full of cops. What could possibly happen?"

A giggle from their right captured their attention. Jiggling with laughter, Fuller's wife exclaimed, "Fathers never change. They can never stand to see their little girls in the arms of another man."

"Stop that. Come on, Gracie. Let's go dance before you get me in any more trouble. Excuse us, everyone," said Fuller. Turning beet red, he shushed her as he practically pushed her from her chair.

Quickly, they departed, leaving the table terribly quiet. Cheryl lasted another minute before pushing her chair from the table and stomping away. Uncomfortable, Matt reached up and squeezed two fingers in his collar, trying desperately to loosen it without unbuttoning it.

"You're not used to formal attire, are you?"

"The last time I wore a tux was at my wedding."

Looking around, Mohinder grimaced at the especially loud song that began to play. Matt noticed his uncomfortable expression and asked, "You want to go out to the lobby."

"What about Molly?"

"We'll be just outside the doors," answered Matt. Noting Mohinder's reluctance, he reminded, "She's in a room full of cops."

Looking in the direction of the dance floor, Mohinder nodded in agreement. Together, they stood and exited the hall. In the foyer, they shook their heads, trying to recover their hearing. Walking over to a window, Matt watched the snow fall. Quietly, Mohinder stood to his left, attempting to will the ringing out of his ears. With a glance to his right, he caught a glimpse of Matt pulling at his collar again.

"How long ago was that wedding?"

Pulling his fingers out of his collar, Matt replied, "Almost five years ago."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Shuffling from one foot to the other, Matt asked, "Have you ever been married?"

Shaking his head, Mohinder said, "No. I've never been in a relationship that lasted more than six months."

"Never?"

"No. I would have, but I never stayed in one place long enough to try."

"Well, if you've never been married, then you've never been divorced. Let me tell you – you don't want to be. Divorce sucks."

With a glance to his right, Mohinder asked, "Did I ever tell you that I met your ex-wife once?"

"You met Janice?"

Looking straight ahead, he answered, "Yes. In the hospital. One week after you were shot. I passed her in the hallway."

"Really?" inquired Matt, wide-eyed. "I never knew she came by."

"She seemed surprised when she saw me."

"Probably shocked her to hell that anybody cared about me."

Again, they plunged into silence. However, this time, it was not uncomfortable. They stood quietly comfortable in each other's company. Side-by-side, they stared out the window. Seconds ticked by one-by-one until Matt asked, "Do you remember when they delivered the divorce papers?"

"Yes."

Punching a fist against the window, Matt said, "Irreconcilable Differences. That's what the papers said. Yeah. Translation: I irreconcilably differ with my wife's choice to cheat on me and get pregnant by another man."

Turning to the right, Mohinder asked pointedly, "Are you sure the baby isn't yours?"

"Yeah. I got a package in the mail from her two months ago. It was the results of the amniocentesis."

"I'm sorry."

Shaking his head in response, Matt replied, "Don't be. It all worked out for the best. I was never really able to make Janice happy. Every time I failed to make detective I could see a little more of the respect she held for me die. She wanted someone better than me. I guess she found him in Tom."

"I very much doubt that."

Facing Mohinder, Matt's eyes slowly narrowed.

Inching closer, Mohinder defended his statement. "I have often heard you put yourself down, yet I still find it unbelievable when I hear you do it. You're a good man, Matthew. I have witnessed that with my own eyes. You willingly throw yourself in the line of fire for no other reason that it is the right thing to do. Your ability to put aside your own wants for the greater good is both extraordinary and seldom seen. Still, you have suffered because of people in your life who have not always been able to see your noble attributes, but trust that I am not blind to them."

They stood there. Not a word passed between them. They just stood there. Inches apart, they looked directly into each other's eyes. There were none of the usual intruders – no stray movements, no unwanted visitors nor any sudden noise. In the end, it was merely an involuntary response to dry eyes that broke the spell.

Drawing in a deep breath, Mohinder was the first to speak, "Listen. The music lowered in volume."

Nodding, Matt turned toward the hall. "It sounds like a slow song. We better get back in there before that boy Molly's dancing with starts to get ideas."

Frowning, Mohinder reminded, "I thought you said that she was safe in a room full of cops."

Headed for the hall, Matt called back, "She is, but even a room full of cops isn't faster than a boy's hands."