Mirror
Summary: A short, random crossover with "Heroes." Emma/Will, Charlie/Hiro
Pairings: Hinting of Emma/Will, Charlie/Hiro
One-shot
If she's being honest with herself, she has become a freak about the scar. It's practically non-existent by now, as the doctor had promised it would be, but every morning she checks her forehead in the mirror. Sometimes before bed, she goes so far as to slather on some Neosporin. She's obsessed with buying medical supplies, some necessary, most trivial, which is probably what fueled her growing aversion to germs.
She couldn't tell you how long ago the attack was. It seems like months, but it must have been years. She was "out of commission" as the Company so delicately puts it. Emma snorts a little at her reflection. Having her head sawed off and her brain ripped out would constitute as a good reason to be a little behind in the game.
Miraculously, the pairing of some ancient healer's blood and her innate power – her super brain, her esteemed intelligence – either enabled a new brain to grow or her old brain to attach. She never asked. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She remembered everything; the sweet little diner, the sweet little Japanese man… and the sweet little aftershocks of life, pain, and death.
She lost track of time in the white, orderly maze of the building simply known as the Company, until one day, she was taken into an office and seated across from a bald, sad but resolute man. He slid a stack of crisp, new paperwork and a crisp, new stack of text books across the desk between them and told her about the relocation.
She was going to Lima, Ohio. She was going to be a guidance counselor at the high school, and she was going to be Ms. Emma Pillsbury.
She wasn't working for the Company, per se, but she knew she owed them something. Nothing these days came without strings attached. Maybe they wanted her to keep her eyes open for the man who killed her.
That was the one gap in her memory, scarred over indefinitely. That was alright with her.
The ancient healer whispered to her once as she passed by that the Japanese man – her Hiro – had moved on, and she would be wise to do so as well. Her heart hardened a little at his words, but she couldn't say she was surprised. It was touching of him to give her a proper farewell, to make her last days so comfortable. She wasn't expecting anything more from him.
It hurts though, the thought of the scars on her heart, and every time she looks at Will - a face so familiar it's like she's always had it with her in her mind – she feels unclean, like he's catching on to the lie she's been forced into.
Every morning, the girl who once was Charlie Andrews checks the mirror for the scar on her forehead, because if it's showing, then she knows what she could bring crashing down around her in her nice, neat world.