(no subject)
Title: A Matter of Duty
Author: sinemoras09
Characters: Mohinder, Mira
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 313
Spoilers: Season 1 if you squint
Summary: Mira confronts Mohinder. Drabble. Takes place around "Genesis." Inspired by a conversation with forsquilis :) I've been mulling over Mohinder/Mira ever since.
---
"You don't love me anymore, do you?" Mira asks.
She doesn't look at him when she speaks: she folds and unfolds a cloth in her hand. She moves about the kitchen with an effortless efficiency, touching everything on the counter as if she's taking inventory: curries pushed against a bowl of saffron rice; a liter of tonic water and quinine. Behind her, Mohinder shuffles papers into his briefcase, notes scribbled on yellow lined paper.
"It's not a matter of love, it's a matter of duty," Mohinder says.
"And what about your duty to me?" Mira asks.
Mohinder snaps his briefcase shut. "He was my father. We're not yet married," Mohinder says. Mira's face wrenches. Her hands clench into fists. A little wildly, she pushes the onion peels into piles on the counter, nearly knocking over the chili paste in her haste. Mohinder rushes toward her.
"Mira--"
"Don't," Mira says. Mohinder stops, then stands uncertainly. Mira draws in a breath, then straightens, tightening her jaw.
"This has been over long before New York," Mira says. Mohinder nods, dumbly.
"Yes," Mohinder says. His voice is thick. "Yes, I...I quite think you're right..."
Blinking quickly, Mira turns and dumps the onion skins into the boiling water. "I may not be your wife, but I am still your colleague," Mira says. She dumps more onions into the pot. "And as your colleague, I cannot stand idly by while you go and throw your life away."
"Mira I'm sorry--"
"Please." Mira crosses her arms. "Don't say anything more. Just get out."
"Mira--"
"Get out!" Mira says.
Mohinder stands a moment at the doorway before turning. The door closes, and through the open window, Mira can hear his footsteps crunch on the soft dirt road. It's only then that she lets herself start to cry.
-----
A/N: This was going to be longer, but I've got writer's block so I'm just posting what I've got. That's why there are drabbles, yo. Fo shizzle.
Author: sinemoras09
Characters: Mohinder, Mira
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 313
Spoilers: Season 1 if you squint
Summary: Mira confronts Mohinder. Drabble. Takes place around "Genesis." Inspired by a conversation with forsquilis :) I've been mulling over Mohinder/Mira ever since.
---
"You don't love me anymore, do you?" Mira asks.
She doesn't look at him when she speaks: she folds and unfolds a cloth in her hand. She moves about the kitchen with an effortless efficiency, touching everything on the counter as if she's taking inventory: curries pushed against a bowl of saffron rice; a liter of tonic water and quinine. Behind her, Mohinder shuffles papers into his briefcase, notes scribbled on yellow lined paper.
"It's not a matter of love, it's a matter of duty," Mohinder says.
"And what about your duty to me?" Mira asks.
Mohinder snaps his briefcase shut. "He was my father. We're not yet married," Mohinder says. Mira's face wrenches. Her hands clench into fists. A little wildly, she pushes the onion peels into piles on the counter, nearly knocking over the chili paste in her haste. Mohinder rushes toward her.
"Mira--"
"Don't," Mira says. Mohinder stops, then stands uncertainly. Mira draws in a breath, then straightens, tightening her jaw.
"This has been over long before New York," Mira says. Mohinder nods, dumbly.
"Yes," Mohinder says. His voice is thick. "Yes, I...I quite think you're right..."
Blinking quickly, Mira turns and dumps the onion skins into the boiling water. "I may not be your wife, but I am still your colleague," Mira says. She dumps more onions into the pot. "And as your colleague, I cannot stand idly by while you go and throw your life away."
"Mira I'm sorry--"
"Please." Mira crosses her arms. "Don't say anything more. Just get out."
"Mira--"
"Get out!" Mira says.
Mohinder stands a moment at the doorway before turning. The door closes, and through the open window, Mira can hear his footsteps crunch on the soft dirt road. It's only then that she lets herself start to cry.
-----
A/N: This was going to be longer, but I've got writer's block so I'm just posting what I've got. That's why there are drabbles, yo. Fo shizzle.