Future Unknown
"Life and Death are like marionettes dancing on a table. Once they fall, everything crumbles."
Mamoru Oshii
What we know, we cannot change. What we do not know, we can choose to remember or forget. The future is one such thing. Sometimes we know what will happen; sometimes it's just a mystery.
Sometimes, we choose not to know the future.
She can feel the cold biting into her soft cheeks. It isn't winter, but the chill has already set in.
The ground beneath her feet is cold with the dead.
She steps over a broken gravestone, disgusted. She doesn't care that they were people once. Once.
He is there, waiting for her. Waiting, so that they can touch the grave, hurt and curse each other, and then walk away with the spirits. He doesn't feel the cold air at all.
He too, is half-dead. But he feels her in the air.
" Why have you come here, uncle?" she asks incredulously.
" Your father was my brother." His tone is neutral.
" A brother whom you chose not to save."
He wants to scream and forget, but the grave echoes with her. He turns around and starts walking away. " I'm going home."
" To Nikki?" she mocks him with a cruel look in her eyes. He wishes he could see warmth there, wishes he could taste the bitterness of her mouth with his tongue.
" She needs me to be with her."
Anger rages in her heart, the only emotion of their lifeless conversation. She wants to hurt him so badly, the way he hurt her when he abandoned her, and them. She wants to see him in so much pain, that he will come back to her arms, begging him to save her.
She wants to see some life in his eyes, instead of death.
And as he leaves the girl he loves for the woman he cannot live without, he just dies a little bit more.
And she lives a little bit less.
XXXXX
Janice loves the sound of children playing. And as she hears it now, it makes her very happy.
She grumbles as the one in her belly gives her a kick. But she enjoys it as well.
She has a normal life, a normal husband, three children and another one on the way. A normal life.
Only blemished by him.
He left her many years ago, eight on the fingers, millions in the mind. She doesn't care for him anymore. For the past few years, she has seen neither hide nor hair of him.
She doesn't care about the one who left. But sometimes, out of the blue, she thinks he's still here. Strange, isn't it?
Her husband and teenage son come down for breakfast. They laugh and talk, like normal people.
"Wyatt, be sure to eat up everything, you're a growing boy." she admonishes her teenager as he pushes the salad away. Wyatt shrugs and combs his lazy curls, then pulls back the plate and starts eating.
Janice looks at him affectionately. She remembers the day, five years ago, when her husband brought him home. An orphan with severe memory loss. African-American.
Thirteen years old. Brilliant at everything, especially computers. Another child to fill her aching arms.
" Mom, don't get so worked up. It's bad for the baby." he replies and laughs as he dodges her friendly swat.
" I'll get you some coffee ice-cream on the way home.", her husband says, smiling at her. She met him seven years ago. A handsome FBI agent, just like her Matt had once been.
After some time, he leaves for work, even though it's a Saturday.
Some time after that, Janice thinks of eating coffee ice cream. She has been craving that since the morning.
But then, she remembers that he had said he would bring it for her. How could he have known?
She feels Matt, his memory, or his ghost creep close to her mind. She banishes it with one thought, thinking that she must have mentioned it to him earlier.
What she doesn't know is that the ones, who are gone, are not always among the departed.
XXXXX
Ando feels guilty as he watches her cry. He knows these tears could have never been for him.
If it were him. If.
It isn't like his wife to cry. But then, there come times when smiling becomes too much for her. Especially, times like these.
A peaceful morning shattered by a single phone call. An old friend of hers, calling after a gap of many years. They talked, they laughed, they joked. Until she asked about Kimiko's cute younger brother.
A part of him just wants to get up and treat her indifferently, and think that this is just another bout of crying. But he wraps her tight and doesn't let go.
He feels angry that Hiro has done this. He had used his powers to transport him through time and space, and not save himself, as Sylar burst like an inferno. He knows he is an ingrate.
He knows his life is worth much less than Hiro's ever was.
He kisses her gently and draws her into bed. She willingly gives herself to him, like last night.
As he makes love to her, he can't help wishing that Hiro were still alive.
And wish that it was Hiro lying in his arms, joined with him so intimately.
XXXXX
Peter arrives at the small apartment he calls home.
A home built on the ashes of two families. She isn't there.
He falls down on the sofa, and switches on the television, just for the comfort that the flickering images give him.
After an hour, she walks in through the door. " I was at Mohinder's." Nikki explains.
Peter understands. He knows that she needs Mohinder as much as she needs him. He knows that they have a simple relationship. Give and take-take and give.
She sits down beside him and puts her head on his shoulder. She likes being with him like this. Only her and him, and calm.
He is a part of her soul now. She has lost too much to reclaim anything else again, but him.
He kisses her on the cheek. She feels the scent of betrayal, the guilt that comes from meeting his niece. His niece.
But she forgives him, because she knows that he cares for her. She understands what he feels for her, where they stand.
" I've had a long day," he whispers, and sweet sleep overtakes his eyes.
Nikki goes to her bedroom, and tries to fall asleep. But it eludes her.
The phone emits a shrill sound, and she picks it up. She hears her voice on the phone.
" Is he all right?" Claire asks.
"Yes." The line goes dead.
Nikki knows that she will always be there for Peter. And so will Nikki herself.
" Good night, DL and Micah." she says to the picture-frame beside the bed, with one of those happy-family photographs. That are never for real.
XXXXX
Life takes you on a new path each day, and some paths are worn and weary, and some paths are rocky.
But to know the coming day, you will have to walk on all of them.