Characters: Matt Parkman, Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker
Keywords: slash, M3
Spoilers; none, I think
Disclaimers: Not mine. Not mine. Not mine.
Summary: Matt loves to hear the sound of his name now, however and whenever Mohinder says it.
For as long as he can remember, Matt has always been called 'Matt.' It's what the kids at school called him, what every girl friend he'd ever had called him, and who the best man at his and Janice's wedding had toasted to. Matt Parkman. Casual, uncomplicated, the name a guy would have if he was the boy next door.
The name on his birth certificate, however, was Matthew.
According to Mohinder, it meant 'gift from God' but it had never meant that Matt.
To him, it was the name which got thrown at him during bad times. His parents used it to signify they were angry with him and he was in big trouble, mister. If he got in trouble at school, spilled the milk all over the kitchen floor, disobeyed a direct order. His father used it to address him the day before he vanished out of Matt's life for good. After he'd been married a little while and things started getting strained with Janice, she'd started using it, too, in that same way. Matthew Parkman, why don't you apply yourself more, when are you going to get that promote, are you listening to me, Matthew? Like a broken record or endless refrain, in that shrill, angry tone of voice which always made Matt cringe.
He'd come to hate hearing his full, proper name over the years.
Not even Molly called him anything but Matt. Matt, her savior. Matt, her hero. Matt, her father.
Mohinder was the only one who called him Matthew on a daily basis. In fact, he steadfastly refused to call him anything else, no matter how many times Matt corrected him.
At first, it was a source of frustration and conflict between them. Matt would tense up every time Mohinder spoke to him, the name itself a 'trigger' which caused him to shut down, to turn off what he was thinking or feeling and just walk away. But he soon came to realize -- was forced to realize, by Mohinder blocking his exit from the room and insisting he 'look at me, Matthew' and holding Matt's face between his hands while his mind opened up, flooding them both with all the thoughts that were bitten back every time Matt walked away from any discussion because of the name.
You are that gift, Matthew. Mohinder insisted more than once in the months which followed. You are a gift to Molly and myself. We need you very, very much.
And finally, Matt stopped the vicious cycle. He allowed himself to see that when Mohinder said his name, it wasn't to scold, reprimand, yell, harp or harangue him. Nor was it to manipulate him or mold him into something he wasn't or would never be. When he said it, he meant it with respect, kindness, and love. It was this last which spoke the most to Matt, whispering softly around the edges of Mohinder's words and reinforcing in Matt's mind. Gentle, tender, but firm and insistent, just like the man speaking them.
Matt loves to hear the sound of his name now, however and whenever Mohinder says it.