When he opens the door, she stumbles into his arms and he falls back against the wall.

"Eden?"

Bruised and bloodied, she's half dead but clings to him with surprising strength and he suspects most of the blood isn't hers. He looks at the fingers tangled in his shirt, at the blood staining them, and thinks of the call.

"Run," she rasps.

Mohinder looks at the ugly wound at her hairline and shakes his head. "No." He lifts her up, cradling her slight frame in his arms. "You're in no condition to run anywhere." And he's not leaving her behind; not with the price she's paid.

She laughs. "Cost of business. Don't worry about me, Mohinder, this is how it's supposed to end."

He kicks the door shut, trying to remember where the first aid kit is.

Eden rests her head against his shoulder and, mercifully, passes out. When he lays her on the sofa, he gets a true look at her wounds. New and old. He doesn't think he wants to know how she got them.

*

"You should run," she says when she wakes.

He grins and checks a bandage on her stomach; the bleeding has stopped. "I probably should, but as I said, you're in no condition to run anywhere. Until you are, we don't move."

"I could make you, you know," she threatens but there's nothing behind it.

"You could?" Mohinder lifts a brow. "Is that your ability? To make others do what you want?"

She nods. "Great for getting out of parking tickets."

"Great for getting cars." Mohinder knows he's hit a mark when Eden smiles faintly. "Did that, did you?" He checks another bandage on her arm, sees gooseflesh raise and watches her shiver. "I imagine it would be tempting with nothing in the world out of your grasp. It would be difficult to resist that kind of power."

"Very," she agrees. "I went a little nuts." She laughs. "I went a lot nuts."

"And then you ended up -" Mohinder frowns. "Wherever it was that you ended up."

"They don't really have a name," Eden tells him. "They just are. They watch people like us, tag us. I don't know why. They'll give you a hundred different reasons and all of them are lies. They were watching your father," says. "They're the ones who broke in here."

"They're the ones hunting Sylar?"

"We all are." Eden looks grim. "I didn't do it, Mohinder. I tried but, he was too strong. I had to - "

"Run," he finishes. "Good. If killing Sylar means sacrificing yourself? He's not worth it." There was a day he would have believed otherwise. But then, that was the day that he was a massive idiot.

He touches her cheek. "Rest. We'll worry about our mad dash to freedom later."

"He won't stop," she says sleepily. "Sylar will just keep coming."

"They usually do."

*

The next time she wakes, Eden convinces him to run. When he argues, she smiles and gets out of bed. She's not ready to stand, not even close, but Mohinder's tendencies toward foolishness do not extend that far. There'll be no keeping her in bed until he capitulates.

And so he does.

They end up in a penthouse at a high class hotel. Mohinder tells the manager that Eden is Lindsay Lohan in dire need of a quiet - discreet - place to recover from an accident. Eden makes him believe it and they're safe, for now.

Lying in the massive bed, Eden looks more frail than usual but she rolls her eyes at the look on his face. "I'm fine, Mohinder." She grins. "As fine as someone who nearly got her brain stolen can be anyway."

"You shouldn't joke about that," he snaps.

"Well, I'm going to," she counters. "It's that or go crazy." Something in her eyes says there's a third option and he suspects he doesn't want to know. "Sylar killed your father, Mohinder, and I couldn't stop it."

"From what I've heard," Mohinder looks up from his laptop, "No one could."

"Someone can," she says. "We just haven't found them yet."

*

While Eden sleeps, Mohinder tries to pass the time by working on his father's research but can't find the concentration he needs to do it. His eyes keep straying from the screen to Eden's face. He should be furious about the fact she betrayed him from the very beginning. He should be afraid of her abilities. There are a lot of things that he should be feeling about Eden McCain but there's only one that really matters and that one doesn't bear close scrutiny yet.

"You need to sleep," Eden says, looking at him. In the dim light of the room, shadows obscure the cuts on her face. Her smile is warming and he finds himself responding. "Leave the laptop."

He grins. "Make me."

"I could you know," she teases and holds out a hand. "Work on it later."

Mohinder leaves the laptop and walks over, taking her hand in his. "You should be resting," he chides, letting her pull him down next to her. "You're still healing."

"You worry too much," Eden says. "I've had much worse."

"He tried to kill you." Mohinder brushes gentle fingers over the bandage on her forehead. "He almost succeeded."

"Almost doesn't count." Eden yawns and curls closer to him. "Haven't you heard?"

Mohinder chuckles, kissing the bandage. "Go to sleep," he tells her. "You can make fun of me when you wake up. Perhaps I'll try cooking."

She smiles but doesn't open her eyes. "Okay."

*

Mohinder forgoes cooking in favor of an extravagant breakfast from the hotel's restaurant. It's supposedly five stars and extremely expensive. He imagines Ms. Lohan's representatives will be furious when they get the bill and be briefly considers writing a note of apology.

But, somehow, he doesn't quite think "Dear Ms. Lohan, terribly sorry for the charges but we were quite famished from being on the run. Between dangerous, mutant serial killers and secret government conspiracies, one works up a frightful appetite" would garner them much sympathy. It would, perhaps, procure them a trip to the local psychiatric ward, but not much sympathy.

He forgoes the note in favor of disappearing with an air of mystery. They might even rate a mention on Entertainment Tonight for it.

When he brings Eden breakfast, he shares the thought, and she laughs.

"Make sure to trash the bathroom before we leave," she advises, licking whipped cream from her fingertip. "That always works."

He looks at her. "Eden."

She dimples. "Someone has to knock them down to size."

Mohinder shakes his head and pours a coffee. "When you're feeling up to it, we should move. It doesn't do to stay in one place too long."

Eden nods. "We need to get a car." She spears another bite of waffle with her fork. "Those people on your father's list - we need to warn them."

"Are you up to a road trip?" He says, concerned. They need to find these people before Sylar does, yes, but not at Eden's expense. "We may need your abilities."

"You'll have them." She looks stubborn. "You worry too much."

He leans over and kisses her. She's surprised but responds quickly. When he pulls away, her eyes are closed and he smiles. "About you? Always."

*

They steal a car with Eden persuading a nice gentleman at a dealership that he really wanted to give her one. It's a hybrid because as Eden tells Mohinder, "We're being environmentally conscious really. That has to balance out the part where we're stealing it."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh yes, of course. We're not murdering the planet, we're just stealing a car. Next you'll tell me it's not technically stealing."

"Well, technically it's not." She smiles angelically, buckling her seatbelt. "Wake me when we get there."

*

When they get there, the news isn't good. Any faint hope that Sylar had died from his wounds is dashed by the sight of the Frostburg police are swarming over Tracy Chabham's home. Mohinder catches a glimpse of the letters FBI on one woman's jacket just before he presses down on the gas and takes them out of sight.

"We're too late," Eden says.

Mohinder sets his jaw. "We are." He grips the steering wheel tighter. "What's the next name?"

*

The name that Eden selects is a man named Byron Bennington but, again, they're too late. He's already dead, lying sprawled out in the backyard with a beer bottle inches from lifeless fingertips.

"We've likely just missed him," Mohinder says as they stand over the body. "That car we passed on the way up the street perhaps."

A stone-faced Eden bends over to rifle through his pockets. "Wallet's gone," she reports, not acknowledging the comment. "Sylar must've needed the cash." She looks up at him, the fading bruises on her face still lurid in the afternoon light.

"Or the name." Mohinder glances over his shoulder at the house and reaches for his cell phone. "Do you want to make the tip this time?"

"You," she says. "I did it last time." Eden pulls out her own cell phone and walks away. Mohinder watches her go, hoping Isaac's information will be better with the next one.

He's had his fill of mortician duty.

*

When they knock on the door of Teresa Hu Pham's modest Louisiana home, Mohinder isn't sure what he expected but the sight of Teresa smiling at them isn't it.

"Can I help you?" She asks politely, brushing a hair away from her face. The smell of dinner teases them through the screen and Mohinder's stomach grumbles its interest. Teresa grins. "Been workin' on a new recipe," she says. "Sounds like I hit the right spices."

Eden smiles. "It smells like it."

They share a look, neither of them in a hurry to ruin Teresa's day, but they've got no choice. Sylar hasn't found her yet, but he will and they're fast running out of time.

"Miss Hu Pham," Mohinder says calmly. "Do you recall a DNA study in which you participated?"

*

Pushing Molly and Eden ahead of him, urging them across the plaza, Mohinder keeps watch of the confrontation between Peter and Sylar. He's so intent on the battle he almost misses the sight of Matthew Parkman slumped against a pillar. Molly's hero has been shot and the realization makes his step falter.

She sees it too and her horrified shriek sends him into action. "Take her and go," he tells Eden.

"I can help!" She says, looking past him at Sylar. The hate in her eyes echoes his own. "I can stop him."

"You can help by getting Molly out of here." Mohinder pulls her close, kissing her fiercely. She presses against him, fingers grasping his hair as she kisses back just as fierce. He forces himself to grasp her shoulders and push her back. "You have to go." She looks mutinous and he kisses her again, gentler this time. "Please, Eden. None of them can be trusted with her." Or you. He'll not let Bennet or Sylar anywhere near her, not ever again.

Eden looks down at Molly and the little girl looks back. He doesn't let himself think about the image they make.

"Eden..."

She sighs and nods. "Be careful."

He isn't.

*

"Do you think they're still alive?" Eden wonders that night, curled around him. "The Petrellis."

Mohinder thinks. "Before this started, I would have said no. Now I'm not so sure."

They both don't mention the other unanswered question. Neither of them wants to think that Sylar might have survived. That the blood trail meant he was alive.

"I think they are," Eden decides.

He doesn't argue. This time, he doesn't want to.

 

I own nobody, any incidental characters are snagged from "the List" courtesy of an unwitting YouTube Music Video.

 

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