2007-03-25: Any Port in a Storm


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Summary: Two detectives finally see eye to eye and promise not to keep secrets anymore.

Date It Happened: March 25, 2007

Any Port in a Storm

Mount Sinai Hospital

Visiting hours don't apply to Matthew Parkman. Not when his apartment is empty. Not when his apartment is empty because Sylar has his little girl and roommate. By the time Parkman finishes visiting every lab on his list that Sylar might, just might go to, the detective stumbles into the hospital and rides the elevator to the floor where Damaris is staying. Here's hoping Ed gave up his vigil. Here's hoping he can speak to Damaris - actually speak to her - alone. It's sad, but she's the closest thing to family he has right now. Really sad.

Either Mara said something to pacify or to piss off her protector. The end is the same, Ed Boone has left the room for whatever reason. The Psychometer traces her fingers absently over the cover of a paperback copy of The Corrections. Everything is connected. Dammit, why does everything have to be connected.

The door to Damaris' room opens slowly, and Parkman sticks his head in. Good. Boone's not here, and she's awake. "Damaris," he says softly as he starts to enter, not wanting to shake her like before. "You mind if I come in?" She might just want to sleep, and despite his need for some sort Not-Sylar-Oriented conversation, Matt knows he'd have to respect such a wish.

"Come on," Mara says gently with a wave of her hand. "In ya come. Sit down." She actually manages a gentle smile for her fellow detective. Gentle and knowing. "Is there something you need?"

A hug? But Matt won't ask for one. Instead he simply walks in and takes a seat next to Damaris' bed and sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. "Didn't want to go home," he mumbles.

"Can't blame you," Mara murmurs. She reaches a hand out to rest on Parkman's shoulder. "I understand that… You didn't want to go home, but why did you come here? I… I thought you hated me."

The hand on his shoulder is comforting, if strange. Matt doesn't lift his head, but a strained chuckle accompanies his next exhalation of hair. "What's that they say? Any port in a storm?"

"Glad to be that port." Mara rolls her eyes, but a huff of laughter escapes her lips. "Well, you're in good company. We're both scared out of our minds for the same and different reasons, right?"

Like a great beast lifting its head as it rises from slumber, Matt brings his head up to regard Damaris with a tired expression of quiet exasperation. "He has /Molly,/ Damaris. If he…" No, saying what Sylar would do to Molly if he ever used up what he could get from Mohinder is still too hard. "…we're all fucked."

"Not if we find her." Mara slides her hand down Matt's shoulder, then back up to cup his cheek. "Have a little faith in Mohinder, yeah? He knows we're coming for him." He must. Surely, he must. "He'll do whatever he has to to stall Gray long enough for us to get there."

"He hasn't called," Matt says with that same mix of determination and hopelessness in his voice. "He hasn't called. We have no idea where they are." Or if they're still alive…or if Sylar is even capable of killing them using his usual M.O. yet. But Matt shakes his head. This isn't what he wanted to spend the night talking about. "What happened when you passed out?"

Mara rubs her thumb gently over Matt's cheek before she drops her hand back to his shoulder. "I saw Boone. Near as I can tell from the different visions I've had of him, the Company just keeps wiping his memory. He may actually be with the FBI. He may not. Maybe he used to be, so he still has the cover. I don't think he even knows who he really is anymore."

Matt grunts. He can't help but feel some bit of sympathy for the man, but still. "Then why the hell did they stick him with us? If he's got gaps in his memory, you'd think the FBI would kick him out." They weren't too tolerant of Matt toward the end. "You look crazy when you can't remember things." (Or if you know things you shouldn't know.)

"…Things you shouldn't know?" Mara peers quizzically at the detective. "Because you read everybody's minds?" She gives him a quirky little smile as she asks the question she probably shouldn't ask.

It's out, but in a way it's only fair. "Not everyone. And not all the time. You can't imagine the headache." Matt rubs a hand over his face and through his hair again, his touch rough while wholly tired. "You do the same thing, don't you? Just with stuff?" But stuff doesn't think.

"I /can/ imagine." Sympathetic. Mara nods. "Yeah. Sort of. I can't hear thoughts or anything, but… I feel emotion. Sometimes, it's so much, I may as well know what a person was thinking. Will think." She sighs. "It's why I pass out all the time."

A small smirk finds Matt's mouth at that, and he looks away to the far wall. "Good thing we wear gloves when examining evidence, hm? It'd suck if you passed out in the middle of a crime scene." It'd be hard to hang onto that detective badge, anyway. "Useful, though, I bet. Just like me with interrogation. …but it's a good thing not everyone knows about it." Again, Sylar isn't even taken into account with this statement. "I think I scared more people in the FBI than I impressed."

"Gloves don't do it, Parkman." Mara's own smirk is sardonic. Self-deprecating. "I was benched because I /was/ passing out at crime scenes." She tips her head to one side, listening. "It is useful. When I know what happened, I know what questions to ask. I know how to trap them. You read their thoughts, I see their secrets."

Really? Matt looks slightly surprised. "I though it was because you-" but he cuts himself off. No. He doesn't want to talk about that case. He mutters something and shakes his head. "Molly's one too. And it's…" but all Matt does is tap the side of his head with a finger.

"Okay, the /first/ time they benched me, it was because of that. They tossed me Alexander Marx's case because nobody thought there was anything to it. When I caught… When he came after me outside of the lab, it just… worked out that I got to start working again." When Matt reveals Molly's secret, Mara doesn't bother pretending it's news to her. "I know. I've… seen." She looks away, suddenly uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to. I just… did."

"You can't help it. Neither can I." Matt seems to understand, shrugging off Damaris' discomfort easily. "But…well, it makes things more dangerous, you know? Just like Cl… with other people involved."

"Yeah, it does. But do we really have much choice?" Mara's brows disappear under her bangs. "We're… Irrevoacably involved. We just make the best of the situation, right? Try and stay a step ahead." She takes in a deep breath. "He hasn't been to the lab?"

Parkman just shakes his head. "If they have, no one has seen them. We staked out that place as soon as we could. You know he's…well, he's not got what he needs in order to get what he wants." That's a nice way to put it. "I spent all damned day running around this city telling lab techs or whoever I could find to call us if they show up."

Mara takes in the information, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. "If you can get me to the lab, I could… I can tell you when they'll finally try to show up. Because we know only Mohinder has what Gray needs." Matt may not want to talk about this, but not talking about it is not the best course of action, according to Damaris. Can't stop the man without a plan. "Plus, Mohinder has a drug that stops my blackouts. That would come in handy. I'm of far more use to you if I'm not passing out at the drop of a hat. The leg is bad enough."

The idea seems to take root in Matt's head, because he narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "I don't know how movable you are, Damaris, and I'd hate to put you in a situation where you wouldn't be able to book it out."

"I already know how my story ends." That much emboldens the bedridden detective. "I don't die in that lab. I die in my own home. You take me to the lab, I'll be fine. Just… tomorrow. Petrelli wants me to stay put." She doesn't specify which one. "Says he has a plan. Tomorrow, I'll know what it is."

The fact that Damaris is in on a plan that Matt isn't irks him. Especially since it's Peter's plan. Hopefully he'll be told to. "So tomorrow, then. After we both know the plan."

"When I know what's going on, you'll be the first man I call. Promise." Mara smiles faintly. "No more secrets. The more honest we are with each other, the better chance we have of getting them back unharmed."

That faint smile is returned, and Matt nods. "…do you mind if…if I take up this chair for awhile?" Trying to sleep in an empty apartment isn't something Matt is looking forward to. At all.

"Hell, I'd move over if you asked me to." Mara grins and rolls halfway onto her side, blinking her eyes heavily. "Stay as long as you like. I feel better knowing you're here," she admits.

With a silent nod, Matt leans back in his chair to get more comfortable. He's awake for about another ten minutes before he slips off to a much needed sleep. He'll be sore in the morning, but that's better than not getting any sleep at all.

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