(no subject)
Title: One and the same thing
Author: Carmexgirl
Rating: G
Summary: They're both thinking the same things
A/N: I don't know what happened with this - it got a bit sad.
This life wasn’t the one he had in mind. He wanted it all, the wife, the kids, a wonderful house where the sun shone out of every corner, reflecting every smile. He nearly had it, just for a second; then it was cruelly snatched away from him, and he was thrust into a strange world that he knew nothing about. Now he was here, in a foreign city with a troubled little girl he adored, and a man he barely knew, but somehow loved all the same.
Mohinder had thought he was lost. That he was on some strange path to somewhere unfamiliar and more than slightly dangerous. He chose to follow that path, and through its many tangled twists and turns, it had led him here, in a foreign city, with a troubled little girl he thought the world of, and a man that had somehow permeated his very existence, to the point where love wasn’t just a word, it was an unspoken secret, a way of life.
Love. How had it come to that? Matt didn’t know, or try to understand, he just knew that in the months following his shooting, gratitude had turned to friendship, friendship had turned to fondness, and somewhere between then and now that fondness had evolved. Love was an ache in his heart, a pain in his chest that wouldn’t go away; a breath on his lungs that got caught just as he was about to release it. Love was there making breakfast in the morning, caring for his little girl when she got sick or when the terrors got too much. Love was packing books and clothes into a shabby suitcase, ready to take a plane the next day, to who knows where, for who knows how long.
Love. How had it come to that? He knew of course, but he still didn’t understand. The months of visiting him in hospital, helping his recuperation, taking him into his home so Molly could have two dads. Seeing the way he looked at her with those big adoring eyes, seeing him hide the wince of pain whenever she hugged him, turning it into a smile for his little girl. Wishing sometimes he could quite easily fall into those arms, and softly touch the pain of those scars away. Love was a sound stopped short just as it left his mouth, a tingling in his hands every time they touched accidentally. Love was the morning sun shining through the cracks in the blinds, bathing him in a warm angelic glow as he sat to eat breakfast. Love was staring at him as he packed journals and suits into his trusty suitcase, giving him stern looks, wondering when he would return, and projecting an air of disappointment.
He didn’t know how it had begun, just that it had. He would come home, tired from a hard day at the precinct, to find him at his desk, pouring over charts, reading books, or staring into his laptop. There would be a cursory nod, a smile perhaps, an acknowledgement of familiarity, but nothing more. As soon as he walked through the door and they acknowledged each other, he would pack up his books and charts, and head off to bed. Matt refused to read his mind, because to hear what he actually thought of him would probably break him in two.
He couldn’t understand how it had come to this. He waited up for him, every night, pretending he was working, waiting until he came home safe. As soon as he walked through the door he would attempt to initiate some kind of casual conversation, only to realise that he really did look tired, and that to talk would be fruitless. He would then realise the time, and have to pack his books up and go to bed, ready for an early start the next morning. He could never be sure if he was reading his mind, and hated to think what would happen if he discovered the truth.
Once or twice, he thought they may have had a chance. When Molly got really ill, there were the faintest of touches, the quickest of glances, like the flicker of something unspoken between them. His heart would spring a little higher, and the parts of his stomach which were not knotted with worry concerned themselves with a faint notion of hope. All too often these touches would end in a quick recoil from the other man; feelings would be replaced by contempt and blame. Affection turned into reproachfulness, and neither of them could stay in the same room as the other after that. Their one goal, to look after their little girl, consumed them all. There was no room for anything else.
They may have had a chance, he thought, if he could just pull himself together, grow a backbone, and speak to him. There had been a few times when he felt he really could say something, like when Molly was ill and they both worked so well together at making her better. They would touch faintly, and steal glances at each other when each thought the other man wasn’t looking. Matt’s touches left searing heat on his skin. He would withdraw quickly, because he couldn’t stand to touch this man casually. It had to be all or nothing, and he couldn’t trust himself to hold back. When they spoke he couldn’t bring himself to say what he felt, so the conversation would turn tepid and unbearable. Rather that than have the truth come out.
He had only tried to tell him once. Molly had recovered, and they were talking about parental responsibilities. They both had issues with their own parents, and found comfort in talking to each other. Matt had reflected how easily they could talk about the important stuff, yet could not cope with casual small talk. He saw tears prick his beautiful dark eyes, when he talked about how he never felt he could live up to his father, and how much of a disappointment he must be to him. Matt wanted to take him in his arms at that point, and kiss those tears away. He moved forward to take the man in an embrace, but before even the slightest touch, Mohinder had stood up and paced awkwardly around the floor.
He had hope once that he felt the same way. They were talking about parental responsibilities, and it felt so comfortable just to be together, talking about issues and families and lives. He had issues with his father too, and had spoke with such passion about not wanting to become that man, that he wanted to just take him in his arms and tell him that he would never, ever become his father. The thought scared him, and he quickly turned the talk to be about his own father and the rejection he felt, but got carried away and upset. Matt moved; he didn’t know if it was towards him or away, recoiling in horror. He didn’t stay to find out, scared that he would fall into his safe arms and do something stupid. He got up instead, and paced nervously around the room, trying desperately to stop shaking.
Matt would catch him staring whenever a plane flew over the apartment, and thought he could see the tiniest bit of resentment in his eyes. Everyone has to do something at some stage in their life that makes them less than proud, but his work with the Company seemed to tire him out, to cloud his thoughts, to confuse him to the point where morals and duty blurred together, and turned everything a hazy shade of grey. He knew the conflicts in his head, not because he had read his mind, but because they had talked and argued about it many, many times, late at night when Molly couldn’t hear.
He hated planes. He hated that they took him far away from the family he loved. He never wanted to get on a plane ever again, yet the Company insisted. The work sometimes made him so tired he couldn’t think straight, and sometimes made bad decisions in good faith. Matt didn’t agree with some of these decisions, and they had argued late into the night about them on many occasions, throats and hearts equally raw. One thing remained; everything he had done, everything was to protect his family. Preserving the life and the home he had consumed him totally.
The morning came too soon, and he saw him checking the last parts of his luggage, making sure everything was in order. The taxi would be coming to take him to the airport soon. Matt wanted to shoot the stupid taxi, and blow up the airport; that way he wouldn’t leave. He went through the luggage methodically, checking that he had everything. Molly gave him a friendship bracelet that she had made, telling him that he had to wear it at all times, so he wouldn’t forget them. Matt’s mouth went dry at the very suggestion.
He checked the last part of his luggage for the fiftieth time, waiting for him to come out of his room to say goodbye. He came out with ten minutes to spare, and helped him check it one more time. He looked like he was in a bad mood. Molly handed him a friendship bracelet, saying that he was never to take it off, no matter where he was, so he wouldn’t forget them. Mohinder’s mouth went dry at the very suggestion.
The call for the taxi came, and after Molly had been thoroughly kissed and hugged goodbye, he helped him heave his suitcases downstairs and into the waiting vehicle. The sky was as black as coal, the air thick with anticipation of a great storm. Low rumbles of thunder rolled around the cityscape, echoing the storm clouds in his own head.
The call for the taxi came, and after he had kissed and hugged Molly until his lips and arms were sore, Matt helped him heave the suitcases downstairs, before throwing them into the trunk of the waiting vehicle. He looked up at the sky, which was pitch black. He knew from the familiar air that a storm was fast approaching. His thoughts rumbled as though about to do something dramatic, echoing the rumbles of thunder all around.
He stood there looking at him, and his heart caught in his throat. It was as if there was something urging him to throw caution to the wind and say how he really felt. He had to tell him. Now.
He stood there, staring at the man he desperately didn’t want to leave again without knowing his true feelings. Something was urging him to just say it. He had to say something. Now.
“Mohinder.”
“Matt.”
He stared at him, waiting for the other man to speak first.
He stared at him, waiting for the other man to speak first.
Silence. Rain started to fall.
Silence. The rain had started.
“Come back soon.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
He watched him step into the taxi. As soon as the cab door closed, the heavens split apart. The rain pounded down onto the streets, drowning out the sound of his beating heart. He looked at the car, carefully making its way through the deluge, and thought for a moment that he was looking back at him, through the rain covered window. He wanted to run after the cab, run in front of it so it stopped. He would rip off the doors and take the man inside into his arms, telling him to never go away again. He just stood there, watching. The rain felt like it would never stop. Perhaps it never would.
He stepped into the taxi. As soon as the cab door closed, the heavens split apart. The rain pounded onto the roof of the cab, while inside was eerily silent, except the beating of his heart. He looked back through the rain-stained window at the man standing there waiting for him. He wanted to tell the driver to stop, to get out the cab and run into his arms, telling him he would never leave him and drawing him into a deep, longing kiss. The cab continued on its way, and he wrapped his arms around his travelling suitcase, wiping tears away and convincing himself that they were just raindrops and nothing more.
Author: Carmexgirl
Rating: G
Summary: They're both thinking the same things
A/N: I don't know what happened with this - it got a bit sad.
This life wasn’t the one he had in mind. He wanted it all, the wife, the kids, a wonderful house where the sun shone out of every corner, reflecting every smile. He nearly had it, just for a second; then it was cruelly snatched away from him, and he was thrust into a strange world that he knew nothing about. Now he was here, in a foreign city with a troubled little girl he adored, and a man he barely knew, but somehow loved all the same.
Mohinder had thought he was lost. That he was on some strange path to somewhere unfamiliar and more than slightly dangerous. He chose to follow that path, and through its many tangled twists and turns, it had led him here, in a foreign city, with a troubled little girl he thought the world of, and a man that had somehow permeated his very existence, to the point where love wasn’t just a word, it was an unspoken secret, a way of life.
Love. How had it come to that? Matt didn’t know, or try to understand, he just knew that in the months following his shooting, gratitude had turned to friendship, friendship had turned to fondness, and somewhere between then and now that fondness had evolved. Love was an ache in his heart, a pain in his chest that wouldn’t go away; a breath on his lungs that got caught just as he was about to release it. Love was there making breakfast in the morning, caring for his little girl when she got sick or when the terrors got too much. Love was packing books and clothes into a shabby suitcase, ready to take a plane the next day, to who knows where, for who knows how long.
Love. How had it come to that? He knew of course, but he still didn’t understand. The months of visiting him in hospital, helping his recuperation, taking him into his home so Molly could have two dads. Seeing the way he looked at her with those big adoring eyes, seeing him hide the wince of pain whenever she hugged him, turning it into a smile for his little girl. Wishing sometimes he could quite easily fall into those arms, and softly touch the pain of those scars away. Love was a sound stopped short just as it left his mouth, a tingling in his hands every time they touched accidentally. Love was the morning sun shining through the cracks in the blinds, bathing him in a warm angelic glow as he sat to eat breakfast. Love was staring at him as he packed journals and suits into his trusty suitcase, giving him stern looks, wondering when he would return, and projecting an air of disappointment.
He didn’t know how it had begun, just that it had. He would come home, tired from a hard day at the precinct, to find him at his desk, pouring over charts, reading books, or staring into his laptop. There would be a cursory nod, a smile perhaps, an acknowledgement of familiarity, but nothing more. As soon as he walked through the door and they acknowledged each other, he would pack up his books and charts, and head off to bed. Matt refused to read his mind, because to hear what he actually thought of him would probably break him in two.
He couldn’t understand how it had come to this. He waited up for him, every night, pretending he was working, waiting until he came home safe. As soon as he walked through the door he would attempt to initiate some kind of casual conversation, only to realise that he really did look tired, and that to talk would be fruitless. He would then realise the time, and have to pack his books up and go to bed, ready for an early start the next morning. He could never be sure if he was reading his mind, and hated to think what would happen if he discovered the truth.
Once or twice, he thought they may have had a chance. When Molly got really ill, there were the faintest of touches, the quickest of glances, like the flicker of something unspoken between them. His heart would spring a little higher, and the parts of his stomach which were not knotted with worry concerned themselves with a faint notion of hope. All too often these touches would end in a quick recoil from the other man; feelings would be replaced by contempt and blame. Affection turned into reproachfulness, and neither of them could stay in the same room as the other after that. Their one goal, to look after their little girl, consumed them all. There was no room for anything else.
They may have had a chance, he thought, if he could just pull himself together, grow a backbone, and speak to him. There had been a few times when he felt he really could say something, like when Molly was ill and they both worked so well together at making her better. They would touch faintly, and steal glances at each other when each thought the other man wasn’t looking. Matt’s touches left searing heat on his skin. He would withdraw quickly, because he couldn’t stand to touch this man casually. It had to be all or nothing, and he couldn’t trust himself to hold back. When they spoke he couldn’t bring himself to say what he felt, so the conversation would turn tepid and unbearable. Rather that than have the truth come out.
He had only tried to tell him once. Molly had recovered, and they were talking about parental responsibilities. They both had issues with their own parents, and found comfort in talking to each other. Matt had reflected how easily they could talk about the important stuff, yet could not cope with casual small talk. He saw tears prick his beautiful dark eyes, when he talked about how he never felt he could live up to his father, and how much of a disappointment he must be to him. Matt wanted to take him in his arms at that point, and kiss those tears away. He moved forward to take the man in an embrace, but before even the slightest touch, Mohinder had stood up and paced awkwardly around the floor.
He had hope once that he felt the same way. They were talking about parental responsibilities, and it felt so comfortable just to be together, talking about issues and families and lives. He had issues with his father too, and had spoke with such passion about not wanting to become that man, that he wanted to just take him in his arms and tell him that he would never, ever become his father. The thought scared him, and he quickly turned the talk to be about his own father and the rejection he felt, but got carried away and upset. Matt moved; he didn’t know if it was towards him or away, recoiling in horror. He didn’t stay to find out, scared that he would fall into his safe arms and do something stupid. He got up instead, and paced nervously around the room, trying desperately to stop shaking.
Matt would catch him staring whenever a plane flew over the apartment, and thought he could see the tiniest bit of resentment in his eyes. Everyone has to do something at some stage in their life that makes them less than proud, but his work with the Company seemed to tire him out, to cloud his thoughts, to confuse him to the point where morals and duty blurred together, and turned everything a hazy shade of grey. He knew the conflicts in his head, not because he had read his mind, but because they had talked and argued about it many, many times, late at night when Molly couldn’t hear.
He hated planes. He hated that they took him far away from the family he loved. He never wanted to get on a plane ever again, yet the Company insisted. The work sometimes made him so tired he couldn’t think straight, and sometimes made bad decisions in good faith. Matt didn’t agree with some of these decisions, and they had argued late into the night about them on many occasions, throats and hearts equally raw. One thing remained; everything he had done, everything was to protect his family. Preserving the life and the home he had consumed him totally.
The morning came too soon, and he saw him checking the last parts of his luggage, making sure everything was in order. The taxi would be coming to take him to the airport soon. Matt wanted to shoot the stupid taxi, and blow up the airport; that way he wouldn’t leave. He went through the luggage methodically, checking that he had everything. Molly gave him a friendship bracelet that she had made, telling him that he had to wear it at all times, so he wouldn’t forget them. Matt’s mouth went dry at the very suggestion.
He checked the last part of his luggage for the fiftieth time, waiting for him to come out of his room to say goodbye. He came out with ten minutes to spare, and helped him check it one more time. He looked like he was in a bad mood. Molly handed him a friendship bracelet, saying that he was never to take it off, no matter where he was, so he wouldn’t forget them. Mohinder’s mouth went dry at the very suggestion.
The call for the taxi came, and after Molly had been thoroughly kissed and hugged goodbye, he helped him heave his suitcases downstairs and into the waiting vehicle. The sky was as black as coal, the air thick with anticipation of a great storm. Low rumbles of thunder rolled around the cityscape, echoing the storm clouds in his own head.
The call for the taxi came, and after he had kissed and hugged Molly until his lips and arms were sore, Matt helped him heave the suitcases downstairs, before throwing them into the trunk of the waiting vehicle. He looked up at the sky, which was pitch black. He knew from the familiar air that a storm was fast approaching. His thoughts rumbled as though about to do something dramatic, echoing the rumbles of thunder all around.
He stood there looking at him, and his heart caught in his throat. It was as if there was something urging him to throw caution to the wind and say how he really felt. He had to tell him. Now.
He stood there, staring at the man he desperately didn’t want to leave again without knowing his true feelings. Something was urging him to just say it. He had to say something. Now.
“Mohinder.”
“Matt.”
He stared at him, waiting for the other man to speak first.
He stared at him, waiting for the other man to speak first.
Silence. Rain started to fall.
Silence. The rain had started.
“Come back soon.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
He watched him step into the taxi. As soon as the cab door closed, the heavens split apart. The rain pounded down onto the streets, drowning out the sound of his beating heart. He looked at the car, carefully making its way through the deluge, and thought for a moment that he was looking back at him, through the rain covered window. He wanted to run after the cab, run in front of it so it stopped. He would rip off the doors and take the man inside into his arms, telling him to never go away again. He just stood there, watching. The rain felt like it would never stop. Perhaps it never would.
He stepped into the taxi. As soon as the cab door closed, the heavens split apart. The rain pounded onto the roof of the cab, while inside was eerily silent, except the beating of his heart. He looked back through the rain-stained window at the man standing there waiting for him. He wanted to tell the driver to stop, to get out the cab and run into his arms, telling him he would never leave him and drawing him into a deep, longing kiss. The cab continued on its way, and he wrapped his arms around his travelling suitcase, wiping tears away and convincing himself that they were just raindrops and nothing more.