fic: Impossible
Fandom: Heroes
Title : Impossible
Rating : PG
Character/Pairing : Molly/Micah
Summary : Her hand reaches up and she brushes thick brown hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know,” she says finally, her words coming out in a whisper. “I just don’t know.” She stares at him for a moment before ducking her head and looking away. Typical.
Authors Note: AU. The way I see it, it's following the Five Years Gone timeline and Molly and Micah have escaped together and are on the run but it could just be in the future.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything
Her hand reaches up and she brushes thick brown hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know,” she says finally, her words coming out in a whisper. “I just don’t know.”
He raises his gaze from the book in his hands to meet her troubled gaze. He’d asked the question out of the blue, just an errant thought triggered by the words on the page. He hadn’t expected her to react the way she was. He often asked the same question, sometimes worded differently, or clouded by euphemisms, but the intention was always clear. And she always answered with a non-committal shrug or a shake of her head.
He holds her eyes, his dark brown orbs boring into her ones. She stares back at him for a moment, before ducking her head and looking away. He sighs and returns his eyes to his book. She isn’t ready. And really, he wonders if she will ever be.
They lapse back into silence again and he finds he hates it. Everything is always silence, and sometimes he just wishes for noise. Screaming and shouting and arguing and just anything but this incessant quiet!
Her hand reaches out and clasps his and he finds himself staring down at their entwined fingers. Black and white, light and dark. They’re binary opposites-impossible. He sighs again and pulls his hand out of hers. He can almost feel the hurt emanating off her but he ignores it and tries to turn his attention back to the pages of the book.
But her hand reaches out again, holding his chin softly as she guides his head upwards. Her clear blue eyes are clouded and scared but they always are these days. “Couldn’t we…” She trails off, dropping her eyes again and again he has to repress a sigh. As used as he is to her constant insecurity and doubt, it still annoys him from time to time. “Couldn’t we just try?” Her voice is so soft he’s unsure he’s heard her correctly. After all this time of waiting and wishing, why would his dream suddenly come true now?
Her eyes dart up to meet his and he’s surprised by the intensity in them-an emotion he hasn’t seen in way too long. She sits up taller and shuffles hesitantly towards him, her arms snaking around his shoulders and her hands knot themselves in his unruly hair. Tentatively, unsure of what the hell he’s doing, his hand comes to rest on her hip, his finger brushing over a sliver of exposed porcelain skin.
Their eyes lock and he can see the determination he’d thought had died along with so many other things so long ago. She moves her head forward slowly, until their lips are just inches away and hovers there, breathing heavily. He sucks in deep breath, engulfing himself in her scent as his other hand comes up to cup her chin. Her lips move forward that last little bit and suddenly it’s all real-this is really happening.
Her hands tighten in his hair, pulling almost painfully as he pulls her up flush against his body and cradles her in his arms. Her lips grow more urgent on his and he moves his head to accommodate. Eventually they break away, his hand caressing the side of her face lovingly. He tilts his head to the side, peppering light kisses on her neck and down her exposed arm as she buries her face in his chest, holding onto him tightly. He wraps his thick arms around her small frame, hugging her just as tightly, and lowers them both backwards until she is curled up in his chest on the lumpy mattress serving as a bed.
“Thank you,” she whispers, burrowing further into him as he kisses her forehead in response. Her eyes close and after a minute he feels her body relax in his arms and he hopes that for once the nightmares won't plague her. He stays awake awhile longer, staring in amazement at their entwined bodies, one black and one white, yet so completely alike in heart and soul that it didn’t matter.
And that night, even though the furniture smells like urine, everything in the room is falling apart and just outside his door a war rages, he falls asleep feeling safe, happy and content wrapped in his little bubble with her, because she’s all he needs. And just as sleep overtakes him, he can’t help but laugh at the impossibility of their situation.