First time post!
Hello, I'm plotbunny_tiff, and I've been lurking in this community for a few weeks now. It's seriously addictive.
Anywho, I had a little something I wanted to share. It sort of welled out of me while simutantiously listening to Tori Amos' "Me and a Gun" and thinking about the events in episode 2x09. Hope you like it ::shifts nervously::
Author:
plotbunny_tiff
Title: Both Sides Of The Gun
Pairing: Mohinder/Matt+Molly
Rating: PG
Notes: Spoilers up to and including 2x09, angst warning.
Staring down the barrel of a gun, and rage is scorching in Mohinder’s blood. Brief imaginings of this moment often licked the edges of his mind, slithering through the miniscule cracks in his façade when grief and research weren’t enough to keep it at bay.
Rationally, he knew this choice wouldn’t restore his father’s life, but it would quell the outrage that dogged him day by day. A deadly combination of elements (metal, air, fire,) applied to Sylar's flesh, and the fact that he couldn’t quite recall his father’s laugh would be avenged.
One finger pressed against the trigger, and everything froze. The bullet was stopped by a greater force; in that moment, Mohinder’s fate changed. He looked into the eyes of a killer and saw himself reflected there. He saw a man-child ineptly stumbling after his father’s shadow, unsure where his beliefs ended and futility began.
Time shuddered, thawed…and pain overshadowed everything.
*.*.*.*.*
Matt wields his accusations like a weapon, and Mohinder isn’t bulletproof. Their arguments fly over telephone lines, ricochet in the other’s ear, and resolve nothing. Matt says he is forsaking his family for the Company, and for a moment Mohinder finds himself winded. Family is a powerful word. The strength of it slams into his chest with the weight of a thousand declarations of love unspoken, and he almost breaks under it.
Then he recalls Nikki, her haunted eyes and wistful smile, and remembers that she was once someone’s little girl. It’s his imperative to save her and countless others as though they were as close to his heart as Molly and Matt have become. But for all his degrees and impressive vocabulary, he can’t convey this in a way Matt will understand. So he fires back with heated words of his own, and lets the recoil blind him to the heart of the matter.
*.*.*.*.*
Staring up the barrel of a gun, and terror is glacial in Mohinder’s blood. He often pondered what he would do in a situation like this; now that he’s living it the solutions have fled, leaving nothing but primitive horror behind.
There was no rationalizing his way out of this; the man towering over him was as resolute as the steel he gripped. Strangely enough, what resonated in the midst of that paralytic fear wasn’t the familiar comfort of science or a desperate clutch of prayer. It was a memory of walking the sidewalks of New York with Matt with Molly between them, holding both their hands and swinging her legs high into the crisp autumn air.
He was explaining why birds flew south for the winter; the north was so cold that they had to seek warmer climes just to survive. Molly wanted to know how far south they went; Matt chimed in with a silly story about an exclusive bird beach hidden in the Barbados.
Of course she wanted to see it for herself. Matt laughingly promised that perhaps next winter they would, and wouldn’t it be fun to make Mohinder wear a Hawaiian print shirt? It was frivolous, random, inconsequential, but he fell in love with them in that extraordinarily ordinary moment. Now Mohinder’s only coherent thought was that there would never be a Barbados, and it shredded his spirit faster than any bullet could shred through his flesh.
One finger pressed against the trigger, and everything froze. But the bullet was stopped, perhaps by a greater force, and Mohinder’s fate changed once more. He looked deep into the eyes of a killer and saw himself reflected there. He saw a father, unexpectedly willing to commit any act he deemed necessary to protect his loved ones.
Time shuddered, thawed…and pain overshadowed everything.
Anywho, I had a little something I wanted to share. It sort of welled out of me while simutantiously listening to Tori Amos' "Me and a Gun" and thinking about the events in episode 2x09. Hope you like it ::shifts nervously::
Author:
plotbunny_tiff
Title: Both Sides Of The Gun
Pairing: Mohinder/Matt+Molly
Rating: PG
Notes: Spoilers up to and including 2x09, angst warning.
Staring down the barrel of a gun, and rage is scorching in Mohinder’s blood. Brief imaginings of this moment often licked the edges of his mind, slithering through the miniscule cracks in his façade when grief and research weren’t enough to keep it at bay.
Rationally, he knew this choice wouldn’t restore his father’s life, but it would quell the outrage that dogged him day by day. A deadly combination of elements (metal, air, fire,) applied to Sylar's flesh, and the fact that he couldn’t quite recall his father’s laugh would be avenged.
One finger pressed against the trigger, and everything froze. The bullet was stopped by a greater force; in that moment, Mohinder’s fate changed. He looked into the eyes of a killer and saw himself reflected there. He saw a man-child ineptly stumbling after his father’s shadow, unsure where his beliefs ended and futility began.
Time shuddered, thawed…and pain overshadowed everything.
*.*.*.*.*
Matt wields his accusations like a weapon, and Mohinder isn’t bulletproof. Their arguments fly over telephone lines, ricochet in the other’s ear, and resolve nothing. Matt says he is forsaking his family for the Company, and for a moment Mohinder finds himself winded. Family is a powerful word. The strength of it slams into his chest with the weight of a thousand declarations of love unspoken, and he almost breaks under it.
Then he recalls Nikki, her haunted eyes and wistful smile, and remembers that she was once someone’s little girl. It’s his imperative to save her and countless others as though they were as close to his heart as Molly and Matt have become. But for all his degrees and impressive vocabulary, he can’t convey this in a way Matt will understand. So he fires back with heated words of his own, and lets the recoil blind him to the heart of the matter.
*.*.*.*.*
Staring up the barrel of a gun, and terror is glacial in Mohinder’s blood. He often pondered what he would do in a situation like this; now that he’s living it the solutions have fled, leaving nothing but primitive horror behind.
There was no rationalizing his way out of this; the man towering over him was as resolute as the steel he gripped. Strangely enough, what resonated in the midst of that paralytic fear wasn’t the familiar comfort of science or a desperate clutch of prayer. It was a memory of walking the sidewalks of New York with Matt with Molly between them, holding both their hands and swinging her legs high into the crisp autumn air.
He was explaining why birds flew south for the winter; the north was so cold that they had to seek warmer climes just to survive. Molly wanted to know how far south they went; Matt chimed in with a silly story about an exclusive bird beach hidden in the Barbados.
Of course she wanted to see it for herself. Matt laughingly promised that perhaps next winter they would, and wouldn’t it be fun to make Mohinder wear a Hawaiian print shirt? It was frivolous, random, inconsequential, but he fell in love with them in that extraordinarily ordinary moment. Now Mohinder’s only coherent thought was that there would never be a Barbados, and it shredded his spirit faster than any bullet could shred through his flesh.
One finger pressed against the trigger, and everything froze. But the bullet was stopped, perhaps by a greater force, and Mohinder’s fate changed once more. He looked deep into the eyes of a killer and saw himself reflected there. He saw a father, unexpectedly willing to commit any act he deemed necessary to protect his loved ones.
Time shuddered, thawed…and pain overshadowed everything.