Long before any of that became an issue, however, there was the follow-up FBI interview, which was a long-dreaded and rather nerve wracking affair, for many and various reasons.
We as a country had just narrowly dodged the eugenics bullet, you see. There had been a rather scary period, just after the bank in Montana had been robbed and the existence of people with paranormal abilities had suddenly become irrefutable common knowledge, and, more than that, there was a bunch of them going around killing people, well, there was a panic, complete with an emergency address from the President and a crash on Wall Street. Our little family (plus the Dawsons, Micah, and Elle) missed the worst of it, because we were living in a very mobile home, but we saw the footage. There were a few extremists who took it upon themselves to butcher 'weird' families, some of which were probably just as human as they were, and of course they got the most media attention.
There was also the government- bills with names like the Evolve Human Reconnaissance Act, the Evolved Human Registry Act, and a whole host of other bills with the initials of EHRA limiting the movement, freedom, and even the reproductive organs of… cows.
I'm joking, of course, actually it was evolved humans, not cows, but after one particularly dense Senator used the words 'herding', 'branding' and 'bovine' in a rant about the dangers of evolved humans, everyone in the RV with powers started to call themselves some variation of cow. I was Moo-lly, Dad was Beefed… you get the idea.
By the way, that same Senator, a Stephen Clark by name, manifested his ability of induced radioactivity two weeks later, and nearly went nuclear at a press conference until another evolved human contained him. Needless to say this sorta killed the momentum of the anti-evolution movement. It is also, in case you were wondering, why when someone's power exhibit themselves in an embarrassing way is 'pulling a Clark' or, simply 'clarking'.
In the short time after that in which his movement was stalled, the pro-evolutionaries pounced, and instead of a whole bunch of stories about evolved humans who were serial killing fraks, there appeared stories about evolved humans who were heroes. There was that bus driver, Matt McLaughlin, who saved all the kids on his route by using his telekinetic powers to stop his out-of-control bus from plunging into a river. There was the Marine out in Afghanistan who used his powers of invisibility to foil an al-Queda plot to blow up the US Embassy in Saudi Arabia. A woman who asked not to be identified was systematically going around to every hospital in Texas, curing people of their ills. New analysis of historical data suggested that Benjamin Franklin had a power similar to Elle's.
And then there was St. Joan, who beat them all.
She had been presence in New Orleans, saving the world one person at a time, for a while and after the revelation that super-powered people existed speculation that she was one of 'them' quickly followed. The fact that she suddenly disappeared from Baton Rogue the very same day of the Starburst Bank robbery only added fuel to the fire.
It was only after the anti-evolutionary movement began to strike back that she resurfaced- in New York.
Yes, before you ask, I am talking about Monica. After Niki died (or, at least, disappeared) Monica was really angry (something, which, as we all know, I can totally sympathize with). Her life was stuck in a rut. She had two young boys and a grandmother to care for. Management wasn't letting her join their higher-paying club. Gang members kept messing up her life. It was frustrating.
So, she took her destiny into her own hands and fought back as St. Joan, watchwoman of the impoverished. Everyone in the RV knew about it, of course; discounting the closeness, the only reading material available there was Micah's collection of 9th Wonders comic books, which made St. Joan's identity fairly obvious if you actually know her in person. I'm fairly certain Dad and Appa took her aside and asked her to put her activities on hold while we were trying to be as inconspicuous as eight people traveling in a supersized RV could be.
I'm not sure what compelled her to start again. Maybe it was just her life veering out of control again; maybe, as her records suggest, Angela Petrelli had something to do with St. Joan's début on Broadway. That woman was certainly responsible for the new weapons she was sporting, a dagger and a crossbow. The only person alive who knows is Monica herself, and she isn't talking. Word spread throughout the working and middle classes of the city about the mysterious woman who fought off the common muggers and would-be gang bangers during the night, and she made headlines after she helped capture a man who'd been systematically holding up every 7 Eleven in the city.
Everyone knew she was a special, and, of course, the anti-evolutionaries tried to make her out as some sort of snitch or vigilante, or even a normal person with delusions of grandeur, but, really, it's more difficult than criminalize a person like St. Joan than Peter Parker made it out to be. People loved her; a whole St. Joan fandom sprung up around her, complete with fan listings and a movie that was crap and totally untrue but still made millions in the box office.
And, besides, a lot more people had watched the X-Men movies and read the comics by that time, and were beginning to think that maybe alienating a group of people with superpowers wasn't the smartest idea anyone had ever had, let alone right.
Of course, that didn't really stop the sentiment as much as it stopped the legislation, but, whatever. I'll take my victories where I can get them.
There was, however, no guarantee that Agent Hanson would be sympathetic, no matter how much Dad assured us that And even if she was sympathetic back when Dad could still only read minds and she only half believed him, doesn't mean she'd be now, while on the case of America's Most Wanted Serial Killer and with the entire country breathing down her neck.
I know I'd be crabby if that were my job. Add into the fact that from what Dad had told me about her I had put together the fact that she was something of a bitch beforehand, and well…
I was nervous, because I was always nervous about making a good impression when meeting someone important who worked in law enforcement. Appa was worried because he was of the opinion that Dad wasn't quite up to snuff yet. Dad was worried about how the whole 'I can read/control minds' thing was going to work out, because although it was now considered polite to tell people that you were evolved (much the same way you're supposed to tell people that you are gay or Jewish or something) he had never actually gotten around to telling people about his abilities. So, you know, it was the whole coming out of the closet debacle all over again.
But really, it turned out to be less the fact that Dad had an ability that caused problems and more the fact that he were just himself.
Or maybe it was more Appa's fault. What was he doing, trying to think of a way to break it to Dad that I was working with Bennett right before the FBI took his statement?
He was in the room where the FBI was interviewing us for all of about ten minutes before I heard his voice in my head.
So, Molly, he started amicably. Mohinder's thinking some interesting things about you. This may or may not decide whether or not we'll have another Law and Order marathon ever again so think about it carefully before you answer: what exactly did you do while I was passed out?
Seeing no reason to lie, I answered I punched Sylar.
Big mistake. Big freaking mistake.
You what? he asked quietly.
I punched Sylar, I repeated, replaying the relevant memory for the stomach.
For a long moment, there was silence. Then the door to the interview room slammed open, and Dad stomped out looking livid.
"Matt, what-" Appa began.
"She punched Sylar! Our daughter walked up to a telekinetic psychopath and punched him in the stomach!"
I threatened him first, I thought sullenly. Dad picked up on it.
"Oh, well, if you threatened him first that's alright then!" he yelled.
"You what?" Appa asked, frowning severely.
"I threatened him," I repeated out loud. "Well, actually warned him off would probably be a better way of putting it-"
"What'd you threaten him with?"
That was Audrey.
"Don't answer that," Dad snapped, rubbing his forehead.
"Do you have an ability?" she pressed.
"It's not a very good one," I said, before Dad could interrupt me again. "Not offensively, at least. I'm clairvoyant, I can find people wherever they are."
"Including Sylar?"
"Ye-"
"No!" Dad shouted. "No, no, no and no. I know what you're thinking Audrey, and I know what you're thinking Molly, and the answer is no."
"But Dad-"
"I wouldn't let your daughter-"
Appa's cell phone rang.
"Excuse me," he muttered, facing away from the group. Dad frowned a little and turned back to me.
"Molly, we've been through this before-"
"Yes, we have. Actually, we've been having this same argument since I was nine. Sylar isn't the Nightmare Man, Dad, he can't see me back," Dad winced slightly; I plowed on. "He can't even tell when I'm looking at him, let alone trap me. There isn't any danger."
"Hold on for a moment," Appa muttered into his cell phone, before turning back to us.
"Molly," he sighed, disappointed. "It's still dangerous. Sylar gains new powers almost everyday. He very nearly got one which could have trapped you not a fortnight ago."
"We've been through this before," Dad repeated. "We can keep you safe, Molly, without you needing to put yourself through this, I promise."
"You can promise to keep me safe all you want, Dad. Just like Appa can promise he won't ever have to leave again, and you both can promise that we'll always be together and nothing will tear into our family. You can mean it, and you can want it, but that doesn't change the fact that you can't keep it. They're lies Dad. I can- if you'd just let me help, I could do something real."
I hadn't planned on saying quite that much. There was an unspoken agreement between my fathers and I- they shield me from the world as much as possible, and I act like they've succeeded- and I'd just broken it.
"Please," I added.
Dad looked over at Appa, who gave him an unreadable look before turning back to his cell phone.
"She's not going anywhere near wherever Sylar is," he managed finally. "Nowhere near at all. Like, so far away there isn't the slightest chance she could have any sort of physical, or even visual, contact with him."
"Can you track him from far away?" Audrey asked me.
"I can track him anywhere on the planet," I told her. "And possibly off it, but that's not really something I have any experience with."
"Then far, far away is just fine with me," Audrey agreed. "I assume at least one of you would like to stay with her while she does her thing?"
"Absolutely," Dad said. "Mohinder?"
Appa snapped his cell phone shut angrily. "We're going to have Company in about three minutes."
Dad and I froze.
"Who?" Audrey asked; we ignored her.
"That was a truly awful pun," I joked thinly.
"Your Dad is rubbing off on me," he replied dryly. "So what's the plan?"
"First, you give me the abbreviated version of who is going to be crashing into FBI headquarters," Audrey said. "Then…"
~*~
Five minutes later, Appa, Dad and I found ourselves being hustled into a Company-issued van, under the guise of being transferred to another agent higher up in the food chain than Audrey.
The piece of paper she'd slipped me as I had walked out of the room burned a hole in my pocket all the way to the Petrelli mansion.