Fic: Heroes: Every Man's Own
Title: Every Man’s Own
Rating: PG-13, for language
Summary: In stabbing the Haitian instead of Hiro Nakamura, Mohinder made a choice. Now, to see it through to the end. (a sequel to Rise and Fall, which cookie_simone requested through the timestamp meme)
Notes: This is unBETAed, so all mistakes are certainly mine. Also, I think it should be acknowledged that a little bit of inspiration for the ending comes from John Connolly's fabulous The Book of Lost Things, which I just finished this weekend and heartily recommend.
“You need to go back right now,” the older Hiro Nakamura, the one who had plagued the administration for so long, said to his younger counterpart.
“But how do I return to the right moment?” the younger Hiro asked. Seeing them next to each other, it was so easy to see the distinction. How could we really have mistaken one for the other? “I don’t know how to do that.”
“I’ll take you,” older Hiro said, reaching out, but then our peace was shattered. Two gunshots, and then older Hiro stiffened, stared ahead blankly, and slumped to the floor. I looked over to see Parkman advancing on the door, gun aimed and ready to fire again. He walked toward us, but Peter reached out an arm and closed it with his telekinesis. Parkman grunted heavily against the door closing in his face, but Peter didn’t open it.
There was silence on the door for several long minutes. But we knew that it was merely so that they could prepare to force it open. I latched the bolt as Peter continued to hold himself against it, ready. Hiro and Ando spoke between themselves in Japanese, while I studied Peter’s face. He was one of the first evolved humans I ever met, and so innocent then. I remembered being on the same side. But then again, weren’t we more or less on the same side now? The same side of the door, even.
And then there was a flash of movement, and arm reaching out, and with a dull, sickening whomp sound, Peter was pulled through. I cried out in surprise. There was some muffled talking on the other side, and then I heard Parkman yell “C’mon!” And the pounding started.
Time was getting even shorter. I picked up the sword on the ground and sheathed it. I put it in Hiro’s hands. “You must go, now,” I said firmly. He nodded, and said something to Ando in Japanese. I ran back to the door, preparing to hold off for as long as necessary.
“Suresh, open the goddamn door!” Parkman yelled from the other side. So, in the light of day, we were back to last names, back to hating each other. But then again, we hadn’t really been anything else the night before, either, except for one mournful memory regarding Molly.
I didn’t open the door or reply. I’d made my choice, and we both knew it.
He pounded again. “I’m ending this now!” he declared. I knew that Parkman would break through eventually, but I didn’t care about the possible reprisals. All I cared about was letting Nakamura get away. It was what I was put here to do.
“I did what was necessary for the survival of a species,” I mumbled to myself as I put my weight against the bolt holding the door closed.
And then the pounding stopped. I heard some strange noises. Weird light came in through the cracks. And then the pounding again, but softer, like it was being made by a fist rather than a SWAT implement. “Open the fucking door!” he yelled, but there wasn’t anger in his voice, not anymore. Was it fear?
“Mohinder!” he screamed. Both the tone and the fact that he used my given name was indication of something horribly wrong out there. And for a moment, I took pity on him, wanted almost more than anything else to open the door, let him in away from whatever pain was on the other side. The door grew hot against my hands.
But I couldn’t risk letting anything in before Nakamura got away. I’d started this, and I would protect Nakamura to the end. I turned and put my back against the door, wedging my body weight against it.
Matt screamed, one last time, a scream that could mean nothing more than death. The door got even hotter, and I could feel the skin on my back blister against the heat even though my suit. The light was pushing against the door-how could light push against a door? It required all my strength to keep the light at bay.
As I struggled, I looked back into the room and saw Hiro and Ando standing there, Hiro’s hand on the other man’s shoulder. And then, they weren’t. Just gone. I’d done it, given them time to get away. I let out a sigh.
I released the door and the light overcame me. I screamed as the flames licked at my skin, as bitter frost battled it, the contrast too much to bear. Something heavy fell against me from the other side of the door. A body, charred and frozen.
The iron supports in the room began to buckle with giant cracking sounds. Through the haze, I could see Peter and---it couldn’t be, but was it...Sylar?---hands outstretched, grimaces on their faces. And then the ceiling gave way, and I couldn’t see anything anymore, no sensation but the feeling burnt and frozen flesh, the weight of so much plaster and wood and iron on me. Dust filled my lungs. I was bleeding. I knew that.
And then I didn’t feel anything else, either. Shock, maybe. I wondered if this was what death felt like, this nothingness. Or was I in some sort of transition? Had I helped Hiro change things so much that my world could no longer exist, that I simply ceased being?
I thought about Molly. I thought about Matt. Thought about the life we could have had, could have if my gambit of killing the Haitian made any sort of difference to the ripple of time. If Sylar hadn’t exploded. If the cheerleader had been saved. If if if.
Every man makes his own heaven, I once heard. I wasn’t sure what I believed about the afterlife, and some infinite stay in a cosmic reward wasn’t even my cultural default, but it was a nice idea. If I woke up the next morning with Matt lying next to me in bed, his arm slung low and tight across my waist, the sound of morning cartoons blaring a bit too loud from the living room, no memory of this living hell of betrayals and broken cities and exploded homes, would it be because Hiro had changed things the way I hoped he would? Or would it be my own, personal heaven? I didn’t know.
I closed my eyes. And exhaled. And then, I did nothing more.
Rating: PG-13, for language
Summary: In stabbing the Haitian instead of Hiro Nakamura, Mohinder made a choice. Now, to see it through to the end. (a sequel to Rise and Fall, which cookie_simone requested through the timestamp meme)
Notes: This is unBETAed, so all mistakes are certainly mine. Also, I think it should be acknowledged that a little bit of inspiration for the ending comes from John Connolly's fabulous The Book of Lost Things, which I just finished this weekend and heartily recommend.
“You need to go back right now,” the older Hiro Nakamura, the one who had plagued the administration for so long, said to his younger counterpart.
“But how do I return to the right moment?” the younger Hiro asked. Seeing them next to each other, it was so easy to see the distinction. How could we really have mistaken one for the other? “I don’t know how to do that.”
“I’ll take you,” older Hiro said, reaching out, but then our peace was shattered. Two gunshots, and then older Hiro stiffened, stared ahead blankly, and slumped to the floor. I looked over to see Parkman advancing on the door, gun aimed and ready to fire again. He walked toward us, but Peter reached out an arm and closed it with his telekinesis. Parkman grunted heavily against the door closing in his face, but Peter didn’t open it.
There was silence on the door for several long minutes. But we knew that it was merely so that they could prepare to force it open. I latched the bolt as Peter continued to hold himself against it, ready. Hiro and Ando spoke between themselves in Japanese, while I studied Peter’s face. He was one of the first evolved humans I ever met, and so innocent then. I remembered being on the same side. But then again, weren’t we more or less on the same side now? The same side of the door, even.
And then there was a flash of movement, and arm reaching out, and with a dull, sickening whomp sound, Peter was pulled through. I cried out in surprise. There was some muffled talking on the other side, and then I heard Parkman yell “C’mon!” And the pounding started.
Time was getting even shorter. I picked up the sword on the ground and sheathed it. I put it in Hiro’s hands. “You must go, now,” I said firmly. He nodded, and said something to Ando in Japanese. I ran back to the door, preparing to hold off for as long as necessary.
“Suresh, open the goddamn door!” Parkman yelled from the other side. So, in the light of day, we were back to last names, back to hating each other. But then again, we hadn’t really been anything else the night before, either, except for one mournful memory regarding Molly.
I didn’t open the door or reply. I’d made my choice, and we both knew it.
He pounded again. “I’m ending this now!” he declared. I knew that Parkman would break through eventually, but I didn’t care about the possible reprisals. All I cared about was letting Nakamura get away. It was what I was put here to do.
“I did what was necessary for the survival of a species,” I mumbled to myself as I put my weight against the bolt holding the door closed.
And then the pounding stopped. I heard some strange noises. Weird light came in through the cracks. And then the pounding again, but softer, like it was being made by a fist rather than a SWAT implement. “Open the fucking door!” he yelled, but there wasn’t anger in his voice, not anymore. Was it fear?
“Mohinder!” he screamed. Both the tone and the fact that he used my given name was indication of something horribly wrong out there. And for a moment, I took pity on him, wanted almost more than anything else to open the door, let him in away from whatever pain was on the other side. The door grew hot against my hands.
But I couldn’t risk letting anything in before Nakamura got away. I’d started this, and I would protect Nakamura to the end. I turned and put my back against the door, wedging my body weight against it.
Matt screamed, one last time, a scream that could mean nothing more than death. The door got even hotter, and I could feel the skin on my back blister against the heat even though my suit. The light was pushing against the door-how could light push against a door? It required all my strength to keep the light at bay.
As I struggled, I looked back into the room and saw Hiro and Ando standing there, Hiro’s hand on the other man’s shoulder. And then, they weren’t. Just gone. I’d done it, given them time to get away. I let out a sigh.
I released the door and the light overcame me. I screamed as the flames licked at my skin, as bitter frost battled it, the contrast too much to bear. Something heavy fell against me from the other side of the door. A body, charred and frozen.
The iron supports in the room began to buckle with giant cracking sounds. Through the haze, I could see Peter and---it couldn’t be, but was it...Sylar?---hands outstretched, grimaces on their faces. And then the ceiling gave way, and I couldn’t see anything anymore, no sensation but the feeling burnt and frozen flesh, the weight of so much plaster and wood and iron on me. Dust filled my lungs. I was bleeding. I knew that.
And then I didn’t feel anything else, either. Shock, maybe. I wondered if this was what death felt like, this nothingness. Or was I in some sort of transition? Had I helped Hiro change things so much that my world could no longer exist, that I simply ceased being?
I thought about Molly. I thought about Matt. Thought about the life we could have had, could have if my gambit of killing the Haitian made any sort of difference to the ripple of time. If Sylar hadn’t exploded. If the cheerleader had been saved. If if if.
Every man makes his own heaven, I once heard. I wasn’t sure what I believed about the afterlife, and some infinite stay in a cosmic reward wasn’t even my cultural default, but it was a nice idea. If I woke up the next morning with Matt lying next to me in bed, his arm slung low and tight across my waist, the sound of morning cartoons blaring a bit too loud from the living room, no memory of this living hell of betrayals and broken cities and exploded homes, would it be because Hiro had changed things the way I hoped he would? Or would it be my own, personal heaven? I didn’t know.
I closed my eyes. And exhaled. And then, I did nothing more.