watson_ofarkham | | sunday_reveries | brian trimboli quote (Reply)

I spent my whole life walking and hid such colorful wings.
- Brian Trimboli

"Mohinder?"

He shifted slightly against Mira's back, the silk of her chemise whispering against his bare chest, but he paid her no real mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, hundreds of miles away, eyes fixed blankly on the wall opposite their bed, and while he had heard her, the distance took precedence. She didn't seem to agree with this unspoken decision, however, and she twisted in his arms, turning to face him, her worried face cutting into his line of vision.

Blinking rapidly, he tried to come back to himself and managed, at least in part. "Hm?"

"Normally, this time of night, we'd be talking about what we planned on doing tomorrow -- what I theories I planned on entertaining, which excuses you expected from your students as to why they didn't complete the reading you assigned for the weekend -- but you've been quiet all evening. Even at dinner, nothing but silence." She paused, her fingers hooking under his chin as he looked away, forcing his eyes to return to her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I spent my whole life walking and hid such colourful wings," he murmured, still unable to bring himself to look at her.

He didn't want to go, didn't want to reopen the same old wounds they always scratched at, but he was beginning to see that the choice Peter had left him with was no choice at all. He could refuse to come to New York, true, but both Bennet and Peter had had very valid points. If he didn't go back and make an effort, then all that he had left behind would come to him whether he thought he could avoid it or not. It was inevitable.

"I'm sorry?"

It was best to bite the bullet now, even if it meant telling her the whole truth.

"It's a quote from a poem," he answered, louder this time. He looked up at her, wetting his lips with his tongue thoughtfully. "You've seen the news, haven't you? About what's happened in America?"

Her expression turned to ice so quickly he would have laughed were he not so damn nervous. "You mean the news concerning your father's research? That there are people supposedly living in New York with abilities like something out of a fairy tale?"

"They're not just stories, Mira," he protested, pulling away from her so he could sit up. "Something that massive couldn't simply be fabricated and even if it had been, there's always a grain of truth to a story. People with abilities do exist. I've seen them with my own eyes."

"And that's why you spent so much time overseas?" She moved to sit up with him, her face the perfect picture of disbelief and hurt. "And why you're going back."

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, rubbing at his eyes, then dropped his hand back into his lap. "A friend of mine stopped by yesterday afternoon and asked me to come back, yes. I'd like to say that I haven't made my decision yet, but they need me. And even if they didn't, I'm not sure I'd have much of a say in the matter."

"You sound as if you expect them to kidnap you."

"Not them, exactly," he offered her a wry smile. "It's -- this isn't the first time someone with abilities has been exposed. It happened on a much smaller scale the last time I was in America and I was locked away for it. Drugged. Tortured. Eventually the witch hunt came to an end, but my name remains on a government list that practically anyone could pick up. And if our authorities see fit to acknowledge any information the Americans have on specials, it seems only a matter of time before I get to know the inside of a cell again."

She took a moment to consider that, running the gamut of emotions before settling on something he could only describe as horror. He didn't know whether it was directed specifically at him, at the prospect that his father work could have brought this down upon him, or at the situation as it stood, but regardless, it was still enough to make him look away again. Maya had looked at him like that; he couldn't stand to see the very same look on Mira's face.

"What on earth did you do, Mohinder?"

"I was born different." That wasn't the whole truth, but it felt better than having to explain the horror story his life had been for a few months. "Hence the quote. I've been living a lie here, Mira. I've been trying to hide from what I truly am, if only because I've seen no good come from it. I thought if I ran far enough, fast enough, I could escape the stigmata of being less than ordinary, but in the end ... "

"So everything we've had together has been nothing more than some way of evading your problems?"

She got up from the bed abruptly, storming in the direction of the bathroom. Mohinder could only assume she was going to collect the clothing she'd dumped in the hamper earlier that evening and he moved hurriedly to put himself between her in the door. "Mira, please, I didn't -- "

"It doesn't matter. What you meant or didn't mean means nothing." Somehow he doubt that, but she gave him no time to argue to that effect. "What does mean something is the fact that you're going to run off again. I asked you once to give up on this obsession of yours and you ignored me. I took you back in and you did it again. I will not ask a third time, regardless of how deeply you think you're involved in this."

"I don't think I'm involved, I've -- "

"Clearly been driven mad by this fantasy. Just like your father."

In the end, he couldn't say for sure what was the straw that broke the camel's back, that she didn't believe that specials existed, despite being confronted with evidence -- she was a scientist, for Godssake -- or that she had compared him to a man who had never cared for anything but evidence. Either way, though, the rage that had accompanied his ability flared sharply, and in a handful of steps, he had crossed the room back to the bed. He stared at her for a moment, seeing red, and then in a singularly inhuman feat, he had shouldered the nightstand long enough to pitch it at the wall. It was a miracle it was too awkward to lift and throw hard enough to break one of the studs, and even bigger one that he hadn't simply thrown her out the window like some demented movie monster, but regardless, he regretted it almost instantly.

She watched him, wary and wide-eyed, the way the fox would eye the hound. "You -- the door -- it wasn't just ... "

"Adrenaline?" he supplied, quietly. "No, it was my ability. Enhanced strength. I should have known then that I didn't have quite the handle on the anger that came with it as I thought I did. We all have our price, I suppose."

For a long time they stood in silence, and then finally she looked away from him. "Please leave."

"Mira, I -- "

She raised her eyes back to him, tears caught in their corners. "Mohinder, please. Enough."

And now it was his turn to look away. He nodded once, edging around her again to slip into the bathroom and sort his shirt out of the dirty laundry. He supposed that he should probably collect the rest of his clothing, dirty or no, but he didn't want to press his luck by asking for a few minutes to gather his things.

Shrugging into his shirt, he moved towards the door and paused just inside it, his fingers coming to rest against the door frame lightly. He shot a glance back over his shoulder at her. "I should be leaving tomorrow at some point. I'll -- I'll call, when I get there."

She only nodded, and with a sigh he headed out, stopping only long enough to gather his laptop and his wallet from the kitchen counter, all the while wondering if he shouldn't be behind bars somewhere.

Muse: Mohinder Suresh
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1373
Note: The use of Mira Shenoy is not directed at any specific journal.