To the Left
Title: To the Left
Author: catoasapun
Fandoms: Heroes/Supernatural
Characters: Mohinder Suresh, Castiel; pairing is up for interpretation. :)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Uhm. None. Crossoverness?
Spoilers: Heroes - Through COLD WARS, Supernatural - Uhm... if you know there's an angel named Castiel, you're golden.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Even if if I really, really, really wish I did.
Word Count: 1303
Summary: "It took another fifteen seconds before he noticed the man in the trench coat."
Notes: I wrote this after being challenged by greyelveneyes to do so, so tons and tons of credit to her! ^_^Her prompt was: Write a ‘Mohinder-meets-Castiel’ drabble/ficlet. Yeah, I made it a little longer than expected... Also? Not edited. All mistakes are mine.
Mohinder woke to spasms of pain running up and down his spine, his shoulders felt like they were on fire. Gasping and coughing, he took in his surroundings.
At first felt the rush of panic, the gray concrete walls and floors were closing in on him and he couldn't remember for the life of him where he was. Terrifying scenarios passed behind his eyes, and he couldn’t remember whether they were things that had actually happened or things he had dreamed. Images of men with guns and Nathan Petrelli speaking words brimming with fear and contempt and certainty and authority… it was the stuff of nightmares, surely.
After a moment, Mohinder closed his eyes again. His head was spinning, but he quickly found that pressing his eyelids together didn’t help much. Opening them once more, he struggled against the chains holding him in place to no avail.
It took another fifteen seconds before he noticed the man in the trench coat.
Mohinder was certain he hadn’t been there when he first woke up.
The man was standing at a far corner of the room, his hands clasped behind his back as he eyed the wall before him. He looked it up and down, gazing at it as though it was some Renaissance painting, something to be admired and regarded in respectful silence. He didn’t even seem to realize Mohinder was in the room.
“Hey! Hey!” Mohinder coughed. His voice was raspy, tired, and his throat stung but he kept trying to get the man’s attention. “Hey! Who are you? What are you doing here? I already told Nathan-”
Slowly, the man turned his head to meet Mohinder’s defiant gaze.
Even from where he sat, half-dead in a poorly lit room, Mohinder could see this man had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He seemed out of place here, a small unassuming man with shining blue eyes in a place with a vibration radiating hopelessness and terror.
“Who are you?” Mohinder repeated, the edge in his voice softening only slightly.
“You’re awake.”
“Excuse me?”
Mohinder felt himself nearing his irritation threshold and began curling his numb fingers into his palms then flexing them again. Normally, it would have taken more than a stranger’s inability to answer a simple question to send his blood pressure rocketing to the ceiling, but now… Now all he wanted was to be home again; instead he was locked in a cell, bound and dehydrated.
“You’re awake. I was becoming concerned.”
“Were you?” Mohinder’s words were dripping with sarcasm and saturated with impatience, “How kind… Did your boss tell you to say that?”
Turning his body so he faced Mohinder completely, the man tipped his head to the side, the questioning look of a perplexed child painting his features with innocence.
“No.”
“Well then, good for you. I almost believed it.”
The man seemed to consider this for a moment, partially amused, partially confused, before straightening where he stood, pushing his shoulders back. In one fluid motion, the child-like softness of his features gave way to a hardened, severe visage and Mohinder felt himself tense. He assumed the man had been sent by Nathan to “negotiate,” and let his head fall to his chest as he began silently praying to the gods for a quick death.
Let it happen fast. Let it be as painless as possible. Let it have meaning-
“The others need you, Mohinder.”
Raising his eyes up to the man, Mohinder found him standing closer than he had been just several seconds before. His head was tilted again, but he looked less perplexed and more interested, like he’d just overheard the prayers of a condemned man. But Mohinder was sure he hadn’t spoken out loud.
“In a few minutes, the hallway outside your door will be completely empty. There is an exit if you follow the corridor to the left; you’ll be safe, you have my word-“”
“What are you talking about? If you’re trying to trick me into helping you, I don’t know where they are, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. Feel free to tell Nathan, if you like.”
This seemed to frustrate the man and he sighed softly, stepping back and glancing down at the ground.
“I know you don’t understand, but you need to trust me,” the man’s eyes met Mohinder’s, and he had to fight the urge to look away. The blue gaze was far too intense for comfort, “you’ll only have one chance to get out, and you must take it.”
“Trust you? You and your people have me locked in a cell! Are you mad?”
Mohinder once again strained against the chains, getting only sharp pain in his wrists in response. He was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it.
“No. And if you don’t adhere to my words, you won’t live to see tomorrow.”
There was softness in the man’s voice, understanding and patience, but also urgency. He clearly wanted Mohinder to listen, but Mohinder couldn’t allow himself to trust.
Only bad things came of trust. If he had learned anything in the past several years, Mohinder had learned this. Multiple times over.
“Give me one good reason why I should believe you.”
Stepping back from Mohinder, the man nodded.
“Stay to the left,” he whispered, his Tamil flawless and even. Each word was spoken perfectly, and the language reminded Mohinder of home: of warmth and the love of his family, of happiness and a normal life. It was like hope and comfort washed over him; he was so relaxed that he didn’t even feel surprised at this incredibly plain man speaking to him in his native tongue.
It was pure peace.
As the last word left his mouth, however, the man disappeared.
Vanished.
Gone.
Into thin air.
There was no strain of the time-traveler’s concentration, no footsteps to imply invisibility or illusion…Only the sound of what reminded Mohinder of bird’s wings suggested that anyone or anything had even been there in the first place.
As the extreme tranquility began to fade, Mohinder sat up quickly, the feeling that something extraordinary had just passed washing over him. It was something he couldn’t put his finger on, couldn’t describe if his life depended on it, but he knew.
He knew.
In his sudden movement, a loose strand of hair fell in his face, tickling the skin there before sticking with sweat. Lifting an arm, he brushed it away… then felt his heart leap to his throat.
Glancing in shock at his bruised and chafed wrist, then pulling the other up from behind his back, his mouth fell open. A thousand possible explanations flooded his mind: the chain broke, they didn’t lock it properly, it slipped from my wrists, but each made less sense than the one before it.
He knew the man had helped him.
Again he couldn’t explain how, but there was no doubt in his mind.
The scientist in him, whose initial reaction to any and everything was to question and re-consider, was silent. No questioning or doubting voices cursed his gullibility.
The creak of the cell door opening slowly cut through his thoughts, and he pulled his eyes from his hands to see who had come to finish him off. He found nothing. There were no soldiers, no angry hunters, no livid politicians. The hallway was empty, silent.
A small voice in his head urged him to get up and go, but doubt kept him frozen to the spot. It was a coincidence; it was too easy, it was impossible.
The door swung open further, slow as though someone were inching it forward simply to get his attention.
Inhaling deeply, Mohinder looked back at his hands.
Too easy…
Standing and stretching his weakened legs, he reminded himself to stay to the left.
Author: catoasapun
Fandoms: Heroes/Supernatural
Characters: Mohinder Suresh, Castiel; pairing is up for interpretation. :)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Uhm. None. Crossoverness?
Spoilers: Heroes - Through COLD WARS, Supernatural - Uhm... if you know there's an angel named Castiel, you're golden.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Even if if I really, really, really wish I did.
Word Count: 1303
Summary: "It took another fifteen seconds before he noticed the man in the trench coat."
Notes: I wrote this after being challenged by greyelveneyes to do so, so tons and tons of credit to her! ^_^Her prompt was: Write a ‘Mohinder-meets-Castiel’ drabble/ficlet. Yeah, I made it a little longer than expected... Also? Not edited. All mistakes are mine.
Mohinder woke to spasms of pain running up and down his spine, his shoulders felt like they were on fire. Gasping and coughing, he took in his surroundings.
At first felt the rush of panic, the gray concrete walls and floors were closing in on him and he couldn't remember for the life of him where he was. Terrifying scenarios passed behind his eyes, and he couldn’t remember whether they were things that had actually happened or things he had dreamed. Images of men with guns and Nathan Petrelli speaking words brimming with fear and contempt and certainty and authority… it was the stuff of nightmares, surely.
After a moment, Mohinder closed his eyes again. His head was spinning, but he quickly found that pressing his eyelids together didn’t help much. Opening them once more, he struggled against the chains holding him in place to no avail.
It took another fifteen seconds before he noticed the man in the trench coat.
Mohinder was certain he hadn’t been there when he first woke up.
The man was standing at a far corner of the room, his hands clasped behind his back as he eyed the wall before him. He looked it up and down, gazing at it as though it was some Renaissance painting, something to be admired and regarded in respectful silence. He didn’t even seem to realize Mohinder was in the room.
“Hey! Hey!” Mohinder coughed. His voice was raspy, tired, and his throat stung but he kept trying to get the man’s attention. “Hey! Who are you? What are you doing here? I already told Nathan-”
Slowly, the man turned his head to meet Mohinder’s defiant gaze.
Even from where he sat, half-dead in a poorly lit room, Mohinder could see this man had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He seemed out of place here, a small unassuming man with shining blue eyes in a place with a vibration radiating hopelessness and terror.
“Who are you?” Mohinder repeated, the edge in his voice softening only slightly.
“You’re awake.”
“Excuse me?”
Mohinder felt himself nearing his irritation threshold and began curling his numb fingers into his palms then flexing them again. Normally, it would have taken more than a stranger’s inability to answer a simple question to send his blood pressure rocketing to the ceiling, but now… Now all he wanted was to be home again; instead he was locked in a cell, bound and dehydrated.
“You’re awake. I was becoming concerned.”
“Were you?” Mohinder’s words were dripping with sarcasm and saturated with impatience, “How kind… Did your boss tell you to say that?”
Turning his body so he faced Mohinder completely, the man tipped his head to the side, the questioning look of a perplexed child painting his features with innocence.
“No.”
“Well then, good for you. I almost believed it.”
The man seemed to consider this for a moment, partially amused, partially confused, before straightening where he stood, pushing his shoulders back. In one fluid motion, the child-like softness of his features gave way to a hardened, severe visage and Mohinder felt himself tense. He assumed the man had been sent by Nathan to “negotiate,” and let his head fall to his chest as he began silently praying to the gods for a quick death.
Let it happen fast. Let it be as painless as possible. Let it have meaning-
“The others need you, Mohinder.”
Raising his eyes up to the man, Mohinder found him standing closer than he had been just several seconds before. His head was tilted again, but he looked less perplexed and more interested, like he’d just overheard the prayers of a condemned man. But Mohinder was sure he hadn’t spoken out loud.
“In a few minutes, the hallway outside your door will be completely empty. There is an exit if you follow the corridor to the left; you’ll be safe, you have my word-“”
“What are you talking about? If you’re trying to trick me into helping you, I don’t know where they are, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. Feel free to tell Nathan, if you like.”
This seemed to frustrate the man and he sighed softly, stepping back and glancing down at the ground.
“I know you don’t understand, but you need to trust me,” the man’s eyes met Mohinder’s, and he had to fight the urge to look away. The blue gaze was far too intense for comfort, “you’ll only have one chance to get out, and you must take it.”
“Trust you? You and your people have me locked in a cell! Are you mad?”
Mohinder once again strained against the chains, getting only sharp pain in his wrists in response. He was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it.
“No. And if you don’t adhere to my words, you won’t live to see tomorrow.”
There was softness in the man’s voice, understanding and patience, but also urgency. He clearly wanted Mohinder to listen, but Mohinder couldn’t allow himself to trust.
Only bad things came of trust. If he had learned anything in the past several years, Mohinder had learned this. Multiple times over.
“Give me one good reason why I should believe you.”
Stepping back from Mohinder, the man nodded.
“Stay to the left,” he whispered, his Tamil flawless and even. Each word was spoken perfectly, and the language reminded Mohinder of home: of warmth and the love of his family, of happiness and a normal life. It was like hope and comfort washed over him; he was so relaxed that he didn’t even feel surprised at this incredibly plain man speaking to him in his native tongue.
It was pure peace.
As the last word left his mouth, however, the man disappeared.
Vanished.
Gone.
Into thin air.
There was no strain of the time-traveler’s concentration, no footsteps to imply invisibility or illusion…Only the sound of what reminded Mohinder of bird’s wings suggested that anyone or anything had even been there in the first place.
As the extreme tranquility began to fade, Mohinder sat up quickly, the feeling that something extraordinary had just passed washing over him. It was something he couldn’t put his finger on, couldn’t describe if his life depended on it, but he knew.
He knew.
In his sudden movement, a loose strand of hair fell in his face, tickling the skin there before sticking with sweat. Lifting an arm, he brushed it away… then felt his heart leap to his throat.
Glancing in shock at his bruised and chafed wrist, then pulling the other up from behind his back, his mouth fell open. A thousand possible explanations flooded his mind: the chain broke, they didn’t lock it properly, it slipped from my wrists, but each made less sense than the one before it.
He knew the man had helped him.
Again he couldn’t explain how, but there was no doubt in his mind.
The scientist in him, whose initial reaction to any and everything was to question and re-consider, was silent. No questioning or doubting voices cursed his gullibility.
The creak of the cell door opening slowly cut through his thoughts, and he pulled his eyes from his hands to see who had come to finish him off. He found nothing. There were no soldiers, no angry hunters, no livid politicians. The hallway was empty, silent.
A small voice in his head urged him to get up and go, but doubt kept him frozen to the spot. It was a coincidence; it was too easy, it was impossible.
The door swung open further, slow as though someone were inching it forward simply to get his attention.
Inhaling deeply, Mohinder looked back at his hands.
Too easy…
Standing and stretching his weakened legs, he reminded himself to stay to the left.