It was just past midnight, the day Nathan got shot.

He was tired and jittery and had had waaaay too many cups of instant coffee from the vending machine, and Nathan still wasn't out of the ER and Peter still looked like the walking dead (which, technically, Matt supposed he was) when it happened.

"Do you have the time?" Peter asked dully.

"There's a clock staring you right in the face," Matt pointed out.

"No, I mean for New York. I should call my mother," he replied.

Matt checked his cell phone, and had a quick glimpse of the number 2:17 before the voice mail icon flashed on the screen. He had seven new messages.

"Two seventeen," Matt told him, turning away to retrieve them.

The first one brought a smile to his face.

"Hi Matt!" Molly said cheerfully. "It's about nine now, and I'm going to bed. I just wanted to say goodnight, and I love you!"

The second one made his heart stop cold.

"Matthew, it's Mohinder. I just got a call. From Sylar. He's at the apartment with Molly. I'm going there now. If you get my message, don't… just don't do anything rash," Mohinder said, breathless and panicky.

Matt knew how he felt. He was finding it a little difficult to breath with his heart pounding out of his chest like that.

"Matt…" Peter began, but stopped as the next massage began to play.

"Matt, it's me. Sylar's gone, Molly's fine. I'm fine, the babysitter… is likely going to be in therapy for the rest of her life, which may not be too long," he paused, breathing shakily. "Sylar had temporarily lost his powers; he has them back now. We can't stay here. Call me back as soon as you can, we need to find a place to stay."

"Oh thank God," Matt exhales, relief coursing through his veins.

Then the next message began.

"Matthew where are you! It's after ten, Molly's having nightmares again, I can't get rid of that psychotic bitch the Company assigned as my partner, there's a hysterical woman who emits some sort of disease out of her eyeballs every time she gets upset sleeping on the couch, and for the love of God Matthew, if there was ever a time for you to actually pretend to be part of the family here, this would be it!"

Matt winced. He'd even managed to make the click of the phone hanging up sound angry.

"Trouble at home?" Peter asked.

"Shut up," Matt snarled, softening his voice halfway through the sentence when he remembered that Peter's own family wasn't doing so hot right now either.

"Matt I- Elle just turn on the news. I'm sorry. I- are you alright? They aren't saying anything about whether or not anyone was caught in the crossfire. If there was crossfire. I- oh, God Molly's up again. I've got to go."

There was another click. Then the small sound of static and someone breathing.

"Go ahead Molly." Mohinder urged quietly.

"Matt," Molly said, sounding petrified. "Can you come home. Please? I know you're in the hospital waiting for your friend to get better, but I'm scared, and Mohinder can't sing right when his nose is all broken like that. Elle keeps telling us to leave and I think she's actually trying to make Maya cry. It's scary and I love you. Please come home."

This time the click is gentle. It still makes Matt wince.

"Matt, we're heading to the airport. The Company has decided to move us out of the apartment for our own protection, and we're heading for Texas," Mohinder lowered his voice to a whisper. "And we really, really need to talk. In the very near future, preferably."

There was a small beep. End of messages.

Matt turned around to Peter.

"Whatever it is, it's obviously important," Peter said before he could open his mouth properly. His eyes were trained on the OR. "Go take care of your family."

"Thank you," Matt managed. "Let me know when he gets out."

Peter's reply of "I will." chased him out of the hospital.