Intervention (a Mylar drabble for heroes_contest)

[aunt_zelda]

Title: Intervention

Rating: PG-13 … though this is post-Molizard-Mohinder’s head we’re in, so it could be R for all I know.

Word Count: My GOD … 500 EXACTLY! Praise be to Apollo and Odin!

Pairing: Mylar

Disclaimer, Spoilers: I do not own Heroes, Tim Kring does, though if he continues to handle certain characters *cough* Ando and Mohinder *cough* like this, he won’t for much longer. Spoilers for V3 of Heroes, up to episode 4.

A/N: GAH, Second-Person again! Doesn’t seem like I’ll ever be able to break this trend … (I consider this part of my ‘Eye of the Hurricane’ verse, even though it doesn’t deal with any of the characters from that. Leave me alone, I’m sleepy.) In regards to the deaths in this … uh, yeah, disturbing, eh? And I am a firm believer that Mohinder deserves a good smack upside the head for the turn his storyline has taken this season, so here’s my revenge. It was written fast and not looked over much, so it might be … awful.

Prompt: “Brutal”

 

 

You aren’t listening. As he goes on and on about how he’s spent a week with you in the Loft that once belonged to Isaac Mendez, running his healing blood through your veins to ‘cure you,’ you’re staring around the room at the charred, slightly simmering remains of your work: the outlines of Maya, Nathan Petrelli, that blond woman, your neighbor, that dealer … all useless piles of ashes now.

You figured out how he works long ago, before you felt the urge to encase people and stick them on your walls to understand. Full-grown specimens hanging from the walls: full of answers you could suck out at your leisure … every scientist’s dream.  

Now you’re unable to do that. That lovely feeling of power, the certainty that you could do anything, and knowing that ordinary people were powerless to stop you: that constant thrum you began to experience soon after injecting yourself with the serum is … gone.

He took it from you.

You feel empty … and horribly normal. 

He used to make your blood run cold. He used to send chills down your spine. He used to feature in your guilty, late night fantasies.

In this moment, you don’t care if he kills you. It was all for nothing: the experiments, the kidnappings, the hours you spent wrapping them in ... whatever it is ... it’s all been erased.

It’s only when he mentions her that you actually being to listen to what he’s saying.

“… sending the GPS to live with your mother? Very subtle, doctor, I never would have looked there.”

Your breath – which was already labored – catches. Molly. Sweet, traumatized, uprooted Molly. You hadn’t given her a second thought since the serum was ‘perfected’ …

“India.” He purrs. “Go back to your university: teach, continue your father’s work. Rediscover who you really are …” he looks pointedly at the dusty lab equipment on the desk, where you recognize your satchel, some of your old clothing, and the flashdrive containing the formula for the list. “Call me when you’re sober.”

You bristle, but then he leans down, breath hot in your ear. “If you don’t go back home and play the good little boy … I’ll kill her.”

You make a valiant effort to lunge up at him, but you only manage in raising your head slightly from the pillow and slumping back in exhausted defeat. “Don’t … you … dare …”

He laughs, bows to you, and leaves, locking the door behind him with a wave of his hand.

You stare at the ceiling for several minutes, and then turn your head, where your passport lays on the table across the room.

Your ability-binge was fun, but it’s not your path. It was destroying you, and what’s even worse is that it took Sylar to show you that.

She needs you. The world needs you.

You stagger to your feet … and fall flat on your face.

Well … one step at a time.

 

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[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

Uh ... thank you! *blushes and beams*