Fic: Liminal
![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ava_leigh_fitz's "Remnants and Nerves" inspired me. So here they are.Title: Liminal
Author: Lirazel (
penny_lane_42)Characters/Pairings: Molly/Micah
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoiler alert: Spoilers through Season 2 finale
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
Summary: Molly and Micah, before and after. [futurefic]
When they were younger, he flipped through the channels without using the remote while she kept “watch.” With her talent, they always had enough time to scramble back to their rooms before an adult caught them up and watching television so late. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, heart racing with the uncomplicated danger of sneaking, giggles bubbling up from her stomach. She held them captive in her mouth, and they tasted like excitement. It felt like friendship, knowing that Micah was on the other side of the wall, feeling exactly the same way. With Micah, she felt like it was all right to be a kid for the first time in a long time. She felt safe—or as close as she could come anymore.
Now he uses his talent to turn technology into weapons against their enemies, and she tells him where to strike. Sometimes they barely have enough time to make an escape, and they’ve had too many close shaves for two so young. She lies in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, heart racing with knowledge of all the danger they’re facing, and fear bubbles up from her stomach. She chokes it back down, and it tastes like fire. But it feels like home to hear Micah’s breathing in the dark, to know he’s lying beside her, feeling exactly the same way. With Micah, she feels like she has the strength to grow up. She feels safe—or as close as she can come these days.
When they were younger, they both went through hell. Their parents killed in nightmare ways when they had just reached the age where they could really understand death but still depended on their parents absolutely; then packed off to people who cared and loved but could never replace. They had to use their talents in ways neither one of them could really understand because adults told them to. Loved, yes, but talked down to: grown up enough to take the responsibilities of the world onto their shoulders because of their gifts, but too young for the adults to trust them enough to explain what was going on. Being demanded too much of but underestimated at the same time was the rust on the knife held to their throats. At least they could share the burden.
Now they still go through hell, but it’s the every-single-day kind, not one or two crippling, defining moments. The members of the family they’ve spent years constructing to replace the ones they lost are being killed in nightmare ways, and they’re beginning to realize that just because you get older doesn’t mean you’ll ever understand death. They have to use their talents in ways they’re all too aware of, now because of their own choices. Valued, yes, but still talked down to more often than not: the “real” adults give them more and more responsibility, but still don’t see them as really grown up enough to understand—it’s easier for those adults to still think of Molly and Micah as children to be protected than to realize they’ve grown into heroes in their own right. Still being demanded too much of but underestimated at the same time just feels like the natural order of things and not an indignity. They can share the burden.
When they were younger, he rushed into rooms with a comic book and an eager smile. She rolled her eyes—girls learn that young—and pushed her hair out of her face to take in more of the world. He refused to play hide-and-seek with her and she always talked her way out of playing video games with him: all the promises of “no powers; it’s cheating” were useless because the power was just so hard to resist.
Now his smile is less ready but it means more, and the comic books have been too painful to look at for years. She still rolls her eyes—girls never outgrow that—but it doesn’t mean annoyance, and her hair is tied back so she can see to fight. All the world is hide-and-seek and neither one of them can talk their way out of battles with the bright explosions and loud colors of video games but none of the unreality: powers might be cheating, but they’re the only way to stay alive, though they avoid using them during the rare moments of peace because those abilities are just a painful reminder.
When they were younger, the world still seemed, despite everything, full of hope. Surrounded by superheroes who fought for good, they believed there was no way the light would lose. The world was black and white, and so it was all right to plan, to think about the future: once the real bad guys were defeated, they would grow up to use their powers to do ordinary good guy things: catching bank robbers, stopping murderers, fixing people’s computers and finding lost kittens. The specifics of the dreams shifted day by day, but sunlight and helping people and being together—those were constant.
Now they see the world for the shadowland it really is. Surrounded by ordinary people who just happen to be gifted or cursed with unbelievable abilities, they know how close the light has come to being extinguished once and for all. The world is shifting hues of grey, and so they can’t plan past tomorrow, and the future isn’t certain at all: defeating the bad guys is a big “if,” and there’s very little chance that they’ll ever be able to use their talents to do anything but fight a war. The dream of just surviving is their constant now, and they don’t let themselves think about sunlight and helping people—being together is all they can ask.
When they were younger, she slipped her hand into his to remind herself that he was still there and not going anywhere. They fell asleep leaning against each other in corners or on waiting room couches or in the back of the car as they were dragged along wherever the adults were going. Touching was all about reassurance, and she leaned her head against his shoulder like she would against Matt’s, held his hand as she would Mohinder’s. Comfort and innocence.
Now she doesn’t need to hold his hand to know he’s there—he’s a part of her. She does it now to be as close to him as possible. Now, they fall asleep tangled up together whenever they can find a moment to rest. Touching is all about passion, and no one has ever touched her the way he has, and no one ever will. Fervor and ardor.
When they were younger, being together was a relief, like jumping into a swimming pool on an August day. No more pretending to be okay so that the adults don’t worry, no more convincing themselves that their parents’ deaths weren’t their fault. No more trying to remember what it was like to be a normal kid—because they both knew they were never really normal.
Now being together is passion, like a fire that warms when it’s controlled, consumes when it rages. Pretending to be okay is the only thing that keeps them okay, and they’ve both faced the truth long ago that their parents died because of them. They try to construct an idea of what it would be like to be normal teenagers—because they both know they could never really be normal.
When they were younger, being together was being alive.
It still is.
no subject
That's the happiness derived from reading this fic. Molly and Micah and oh everything. I will be back.
Once my brain works again.
no subject
See you when your brain is functioning!
no subject
This was just lovely.
WHERE TO START? Oh. The Beginning.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, heart racing with the uncomplicated danger of sneaking, giggles bubbling up from her stomach. She held them captive in her mouth, and they tasted like excitement.
This I have so much love for it's ridiculous. Just everything about these two sentences work, how carefully they've been put together. The danger is uncomplicated, it is a childish thrill, with simple actions and consequences. I love the use of the word 'captive' as the bubbles of joy aren't really hers to keep, because this all isn't real. Also, the idea of tasting a concept is always great and this worked so beautifully with the rest of the sentence. See how great you are? Two sentences and already I'm falling all over myself with the wow.
Again, I love this whole mirroring thing you do with language and for a fic like this it works so beautifully. Just the idea of a before and an after, that there was some defining moment by which they catergorise their lives before it or after it and the differences that have erupted from the same places. Whereas before it was a childish thrill now Molly's bubbles are fearful and she no longer holds them captive but chokes them back down, locking them away because it's not the same. I just love the way the smallest changes in your language completely change the entire meaning of the paragraph. It's the biggest stylistic point to be made about this fic and whilst with others the format could become tired and irritating, here it is all heartfelt and genuine and heartbreaking and just wow. Honestly. It never gets old. Each time I read this fic I notice the awful parallels between the two situations and my heart aches for these two, that they can pinpoint with such accuracy what's changed yet stayed exactly the same. This idea of stasis but moving slowly forward. Marching forward on the same spot, almost.
The two lines I think I loved most in this entire fic are these:
She rolled her eyes—girls learn that young—and pushed her hair out of her face to take in more of the world.
She still rolls her eyes—girls never outgrow that—but it doesn’t mean annoyance, and her hair is tied back so she can see to fight.
There are so many reasons why; lovely little hypenated segments with these statements that are so true and the slight humour it adds, the stripping away of her innocence and her naivete shown by the simple act of tying her hair back rather than just pushing it out the way. That was just such a simple indication of such a big change in the way Molly lives her life and it makes me want to cry.
The juxtaposition of all these mostly innocent childish activities and the everyday violence and battles they live with is just so utterly heartbreaking Lauren. Seriously. I don't know how you manage it all so perfectly, how it all interlocks and never feels laboured, more a natural progression in a way that kind of scares you because you're accepting this horrible shift in their priorities. They've lost their universal constants because in their world there can't be, there are too many variables and things keep changing too fast for them to reassess so they've done away with these ideas altogether and hold on to the things that are tangible, regardless of how breakable they are.
I love the way you've portrayed the shift in their personal relationship, the slide from an innocent friendship that means the world to them, to a passionate, adult, all encompassing relationship that hasn't lost that world importance quality.
When they were younger, being together was being alive.
It still is.
That tiny glimpse of hope is exactly what's needed and it shows us that through all of this horror and the pressure and the fighting they have each other, they acknowledge their need for one another. That, regardless of their now destroyed world view, they do still have that one constant. And it's just lovely and heartbreaking and it's wonderful.
no subject
Second, I feel like I just repeat myself saying how happy it makes me when you like what I write. You're so great yourself that it really feels like it means something. I value your opinion so much--I always can't wait to hear what you and May think about any given story.
I love the use of the word 'captive' as the bubbles of joy aren't really hers to keep, because this all isn't real. I love how you always get things like that.
Two sentences and already I'm falling all over myself with the wow. Stop making me blush!
I feel like there are certain stylistic devices that I depend upon too much--parentheses, for one, though I can't seem to stop using them, and second person as well--and I was beginning to feel the same way about what you're calling "mirroring." So I'm very, very glad it works for you, because I feel like it could easily take over and be more about that than it is about the actual fic--does that make any sense?
This idea of stasis but moving slowly forward. Marching forward on the same spot, almost. Ah! Yes, exactly! You put that better than I ever could have!
Thank you for the millionth time for all the time and effort you put into reviewing. I appreciate it so much very much!
no subject
no subject
no subject
I ususally don't read much Heroes fanfic, but I'd read more if it was as well-written as this. Great job. =]
no subject
I actually don't read much Heroes fic at all, either, but I'm glad you decided to read this!
no subject
Thanks so much
no subject
no subject
Being demanded too much of but underestimated at the same time was the rust on the knife held to their throats.
Love this line. Great imagery.
no subject
Second, thank you so much! I'm so glad you decided to take a chance on this and that you enjoyed it. I'm especially glad that it didn't seem too repetitive to you--truthfully, I was worried about that, so now I'm very relieved.
Again, thanks so much! And thank you for taking the time to review!
no subject
no subject
And I love your Lilah icon. It makes me very happy.
no subject
no subject
no subject
(Anonymous) 2007-12-20 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)thebloomatic, you should check them out.
no subject
no subject
She rolled her eyes—girls learn that young—and pushed her hair out of her face to take in more of the world. Just wonderful and insightful and it's so pretty just on its own.
&
Fervor and ardor. I adore the hell out of that entire paragraph, but for some reason this is sticking in my head the most. If someone was reading this aloud, I swear to god there would be no sound in the room at all.
Gorgeous, gorgeous and then some.
no subject
If someone was reading this aloud, I swear to god there would be no sound in the room at all. *blushes* I really can't think of a nicer compliment than that.
Thanks, as always. Your reviews always make my day.
no subject
The members of the family they’ve spent years constructing to replace the ones they lost are being killed in nightmare ways, and they’re beginning to realize that just because you get older doesn’t mean you’ll ever understand death.
I love this sentence so much. It breaks me heart in it's reality. I've always loved the idea of future Molly/Micah, I'm so glad you wrote them. It's perfect.
no subject