TMI
Bob sticks Elle in the lab after Sylar. Mohinder thinks he should be offended that he counts as a punishment.
The first day of her enforced servitude she comments, "So you're from India, right? Can you do the tantric sex with orgasms that last for hours, and hours, and hours, and hours?"
Working with Elle is a bit like trial by fire, but her inability to have an unexpressed thought is somewhat offset by the fact she is the first assistant who hasn't quit on him frustration. Apparently he doesn't coddle them enough. Or remember their names. And it seems that asking someone to stay until 4 a.m. is a bit unreasonable.
But Elle is different. Once you learn to ignore a majority of what comes out of her mouth, she's a diligent worker and extremely intelligent. And she makes good tea. Not the sad little individual bags of Lipton from the cafeteria. Made with an actual teapot and loose leaves. The first time she presented it to him, he almost wept with joy. She delivers it to him first thing every morning in mugs with dirty pictures on them, a different one for every day of the week.
The only problem with Elle, was her very Elleness. She immediately sniffed out his relationship with Matt. How someone so socially inept could be so talented at reading people Mohinder will never know, but since then, there had been a steady stream of dirty jokes and filthy insinuations.
One morning, Mohinder looks up from his microscope after a particularly graphic suggestion involving handcuffs, silk scarves, and ice cubes.
"Alright then, now that you've demonstrated your mastery of the single entendre, why don't you take a break? I'll call your cell if I need you."
He gathers his lab coat around his body like a shield. Glares until it is clear to the young woman that this is not a suggestion.
Mohinder breathes a sigh of relief when she finally leaves.
It had been a close one.
Another minute and he would have confessed his big secret.
He and Matt had already done exactly what Elle suggested ages ago.
His bigger secret?
He was dying to talk about it with someone.
Mohinder didn't understand it. He had always been an intensely private person, but now it was all he could do to keep from accosting random people on the street and bragging about his mind-blowing sex life.
Perhaps because this was the first time it was more than simply sex. He was absolutely head over heels in love with Matthew Parkman. It was exhilarating and overwhelming and he wanted to gossip about his lover with a friend and oddly enough, Elle was the closest definition he had.
He doesn't get a chance.
After his show of temper, things change in the lab.
Mohinder strongly suspects a stern talking to by Bob and a very detailed lecture on keeping the scientist happy, what constitutes a hostile work environment, and the many grave consequences should Elle fail.
When Elle returns, she is slightly shaken and polite to the point of formal.
No nicknames. A plain blue mug for his tea. She watches him now with something resembling pity. Mohinder's guilt at snapping at the girl and getting her into trouble with her father soon turns to horror at a sudden realization.
Elle has lumped him into the category of asexual science obsessive. He's just another automaton, a lab drone, a Company man for her to ignore whenever it suits her.
He had finally made a friend, not just a colleague he was willing to tolerate, and he's driven her away.
He wants to correct her. Wants to blurt out, "You're wrong! We had sex right here on this table and it was amazing! He's a telepath for heaven's sake! He can make me come with just the power of his mind."
When he comes to work on crutches one day, Elle practically sprints to his side, professional decorum completely abandoned.
"What the hell, Fight Club?!"
It's the first time he's been anything but Dr. Suresh in ages. It's all he can do not to smile despite his discomfort.
"It's nothing. I'm fine."
"Were you mugged? In an accident? Need me to rough somebody up for you?"
How far has he come that he's strangely touched by the sentiment?
"I'm perfectly alright. I fell is all."
"You fell?"
Elle squints at him clearly not buying the story.
Don't do it…don't do it.
"Off the kitchen counter."
"Off the—"
Elle's speech trails off as she puts two and two together. Her expression suddenly opens into a look of soul deep joy.
"Doc…Oh, Doc. Don't tease me so." She holds up her hands as if in prayer. "Please, tell me. How does one fall off the kitchen counter?"
Mohinder's smile is a parody of innocence.
"It's quite easy actually when the person holding you up accidentally lets go. But it was well worth it, I assure you."
Elle makes a move to hug him but in deference to his condition thinks better of it. She settles for grabbing his free hand and squeezing it until the knuckles crack.
"I—I'm going to get out tea and then we're going to have a nice long talk. I want all the dirty details!"