Heroes: All You Take For Granted Is a Lie
Title: All You Take For Granted Is a Lie
Fandom: Heroes
Author: kawaiispinel
Feedback: ... Is loverly.
Word Count: 787
Rating: PG
Characters: Adam, Louisa
Pairings: Vaguely Adam/Louisa, if the fact that they're married counts.
Summary: "You ain't no god, Adam. I don't know what you are, but you ain't no god."
Disclaimer: It's still not mine. Really.
Author's Note: This was supposed to be my entry for heroes_contest, but, uh, it was about three hundred words too long, and so... Here we are. Based on the Heroes graphic novel The Ten Brides of Takezo Kensei, but the only real knowledge you need from that is that in 1926, Adam was married to a flapper named Louisa and her fate was the one mentioned in this fic. The rest is pure fabrication on my part.
Rosalie had turned the entire backstage area into a virtual zoo when she came bursting in from the stage door to say that she had just witnessed a mugging. The reaction, at first, had been bland, because who didn’t get mugged in Chicago these days? That is, until she said it was Louisa’s husband, which was definitely something to worry about. Adam Monroe was one of the best bootleggers in the business and an apparent “mugging” could mean a lot of things. The bulls weren’t exactly noble when it came to his sort.
One of the older girls said she’d get a stagehand to deal with it, and then send word to the men over at Adam’s speakeasy, lest he turned up dead. Louisa, however, wasn’t about to sit around and wait to hear her husband’s fate by a third party- if he was dead, then she wanted to see for herself.
If she’d known what she was about to see, she would’ve stayed put.
Twenty minutes later, Adam Monroe had strolled through that stage door like nothing had ever happened. Most everyone present was wont to believe that he had been extremely lucky, as he usually was, and that everything was perfectly fine now... Except for the part where it wasn’t, at least as far as Louisa, who had been following along behind him as he made his triumphant return, was concerned. Worst still, she couldn’t even tell anyone of the horrors she’d just witnessed, because who would believe her over the word of “Chicago’s favorite son?”
“I couldn’t of handled you dead, Adam,” she muttered, finding the bottle of whiskey she hid under the floorboards in her dressing room. She almost poured them both glasses, but then changed her mind, just before taking a swig directly from the bottle. She staggered and Adam almost moved from the corner he was standing in to catch her before she fell, but the look on her face made him hang back. “But I don’t think I can handle this either.”
Adam didn’t say anything for a long time. “I don’t suppose it makes sense, given my penchant for narrow escapes."
“Yeah, it does,” Louisa snapped. “Like that night at Johnny’s speakeasy when the bulls shot up the whole place, and you was the only guy left standing. Didn’t even have so much of a scratch on you even though you was covered in blood.” She paused, contemplating the whiskey bottle before taking another swig and nearly collapsed onto her dressing table.
“You know, you really shouldn’t drink like that, Louisa,” Adam murmured through pursed lips.
“You’ve been doing things that were bad for your health since the day we met, Adam,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Except they weren’t really, were they? You know, I always thought you were a hero for the sorts of things you did. Telling Prohibition where to go and all that jazz, and I felt so honored to be a part of that. But you were never really a hero, were you? You put yourself in all those dangerous situations, knowing you’d get out alive, and worst part of it, I can’t even tell everyone what a goddamned liar you are, because, really? Who’s gonna believe the word of the little flapper dame that the great Adam Monroe pulled out of the gutter?”
Adam finally took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “I just don’t see why you can’t see this as a blessing. The things I can do for this town... For you. Can’t you be just a little happy that I’m alive? And now that you know my secret, what’s stopping us from taking this place over and making it our own?” He paused, a old, familiar phrase lingering on his tongue. “We could be gods.”
The emotions in Louisa’s eyes were hard to decipher, but Adam recognized one well enough- it was an emotion his own eyes had reflected enough time- hatred. “You ain’t no god, Adam. I don’t know what you are, but you definitely ain’t no god.”
He left her that night, half-expecting her to come around, but too many wives who had done the same thing when faced with his power led him to believe that was never going to happen... And, at any rate, it was pointless. Four months later, Louisa was dead, having drank herself to death with his own bootleg whiskey, making it quite clear to him how much of her final suffering was his fault.
Fandom: Heroes
Author: kawaiispinel
Feedback: ... Is loverly.
Word Count: 787
Rating: PG
Characters: Adam, Louisa
Pairings: Vaguely Adam/Louisa, if the fact that they're married counts.
Summary: "You ain't no god, Adam. I don't know what you are, but you ain't no god."
Disclaimer: It's still not mine. Really.
Author's Note: This was supposed to be my entry for heroes_contest, but, uh, it was about three hundred words too long, and so... Here we are. Based on the Heroes graphic novel The Ten Brides of Takezo Kensei, but the only real knowledge you need from that is that in 1926, Adam was married to a flapper named Louisa and her fate was the one mentioned in this fic. The rest is pure fabrication on my part.
Rosalie had turned the entire backstage area into a virtual zoo when she came bursting in from the stage door to say that she had just witnessed a mugging. The reaction, at first, had been bland, because who didn’t get mugged in Chicago these days? That is, until she said it was Louisa’s husband, which was definitely something to worry about. Adam Monroe was one of the best bootleggers in the business and an apparent “mugging” could mean a lot of things. The bulls weren’t exactly noble when it came to his sort.
One of the older girls said she’d get a stagehand to deal with it, and then send word to the men over at Adam’s speakeasy, lest he turned up dead. Louisa, however, wasn’t about to sit around and wait to hear her husband’s fate by a third party- if he was dead, then she wanted to see for herself.
If she’d known what she was about to see, she would’ve stayed put.
Twenty minutes later, Adam Monroe had strolled through that stage door like nothing had ever happened. Most everyone present was wont to believe that he had been extremely lucky, as he usually was, and that everything was perfectly fine now... Except for the part where it wasn’t, at least as far as Louisa, who had been following along behind him as he made his triumphant return, was concerned. Worst still, she couldn’t even tell anyone of the horrors she’d just witnessed, because who would believe her over the word of “Chicago’s favorite son?”
“I couldn’t of handled you dead, Adam,” she muttered, finding the bottle of whiskey she hid under the floorboards in her dressing room. She almost poured them both glasses, but then changed her mind, just before taking a swig directly from the bottle. She staggered and Adam almost moved from the corner he was standing in to catch her before she fell, but the look on her face made him hang back. “But I don’t think I can handle this either.”
Adam didn’t say anything for a long time. “I don’t suppose it makes sense, given my penchant for narrow escapes."
“Yeah, it does,” Louisa snapped. “Like that night at Johnny’s speakeasy when the bulls shot up the whole place, and you was the only guy left standing. Didn’t even have so much of a scratch on you even though you was covered in blood.” She paused, contemplating the whiskey bottle before taking another swig and nearly collapsed onto her dressing table.
“You know, you really shouldn’t drink like that, Louisa,” Adam murmured through pursed lips.
“You’ve been doing things that were bad for your health since the day we met, Adam,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Except they weren’t really, were they? You know, I always thought you were a hero for the sorts of things you did. Telling Prohibition where to go and all that jazz, and I felt so honored to be a part of that. But you were never really a hero, were you? You put yourself in all those dangerous situations, knowing you’d get out alive, and worst part of it, I can’t even tell everyone what a goddamned liar you are, because, really? Who’s gonna believe the word of the little flapper dame that the great Adam Monroe pulled out of the gutter?”
Adam finally took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “I just don’t see why you can’t see this as a blessing. The things I can do for this town... For you. Can’t you be just a little happy that I’m alive? And now that you know my secret, what’s stopping us from taking this place over and making it our own?” He paused, a old, familiar phrase lingering on his tongue. “We could be gods.”
The emotions in Louisa’s eyes were hard to decipher, but Adam recognized one well enough- it was an emotion his own eyes had reflected enough time- hatred. “You ain’t no god, Adam. I don’t know what you are, but you definitely ain’t no god.”
He left her that night, half-expecting her to come around, but too many wives who had done the same thing when faced with his power led him to believe that was never going to happen... And, at any rate, it was pointless. Four months later, Louisa was dead, having drank herself to death with his own bootleg whiskey, making it quite clear to him how much of her final suffering was his fault.