Winters and the Beast

Heart

Ethan's heart was racing as it never had. Perhaps, he thought with a hint of levity, it was eager to get rid of him as well. He put his hand over his heart--his hand, his full, healed, left hand.

Just as Ethan was ready to celebrate again, a voice inside his head warned, don't get carried away. Aren't you the one who hates the 'power' dick measuring contest?

Ethan's expression evened a bit at this thought, and Heisenberg canted his head when he saw the other's expression dim. "Performance anxiety?" Karl quizzed, with only a hint of humor in his tone, and Ethan pursed his lips in response. Finally he responded, "I guess...I think an organ will be harder to replicate than fingers."

"You'll have a few minutes," Karl said nonchalantly, and then he slid his eyes toward Ethan with a sly smirk. "You know, I felt you. When she pulled your heart out."

"Excuse me," Ethan said, but his voice was flat--at this point, he felt like Heisenberg couldn't tell him something that was too outlandish. Still, he could feel the anxiety coursing through him, threading into and lowering his brows.

Karl nodded. "I was in the consciousness. After you--" he made a choking sound, running a finger across his own throat. "Was lookin' to see what happened to Miranda..." he paused, stroking his beard. "Hard to get around. Disorientin' as hell, right after you put me down. Anyway, I was lookin' for her, an' ran into your memory of it." Heisenberg's eyes widened, looking almost feral in the moonlight. "Wild, Ethan."

Ethan blinked rapidly. "Let me get this straight." He put up a hand, feeling disgusted and as if his privacy was grossly invaded. "You hopped into a cataloged memory of..." Ethan squinted. "My heart getting ripped out?"

Karl nodded slowly as though he didn't understand the issue.

Ethan stared, unsure what to say. This was possibly even stranger than the hallucination he'd had when Karl touched his chest. He hated learning new things about the Mold, he realized, and the whole subject made him hate Miranda even more. He could feel himself blushing again, but he wasn't sure why. How did he even feel about Karl being, essentially, in his head?

Karl shrugged at Ethan's stare, and went back to his original point. "So. S'long as things are the same as then, you've got a few before you completely collapse. If you don't get it," he dipped his head. "Don't worry. But your best bet is to have me--" he brandished a hand, "pull it out slow, while you...." --hand gesture-- "regrow? Regenerate? The heart in its place. And you'll be able to talk to me," Karl nodded. "If we need to change things, we can."

Ethan was nodding; the vision of Miranda squeezing his heart over her head was now replaying in his brain since Karl mentioned the memory. He felt dirty, and he sighed. Maybe he just would ask Karl to throw him off the cliff next time. Out of a misplaced anxiety, Ethan tried the good old 'talk to him like he's an enemy' banter tactic.

"I bet watching that made you feel a lot better," he said with the angry edge on his voice that he got anytime Karl made him feel....? However it was he felt. "After our fight."

Karl's eyes widened again, but they had no feral white edge to them this time. They looked almost childlike, full of emotional alarm. He drew back slightly. "Are you kidding?"

Ethan's scowl indicated he was not, in fact, kidding.

Karl stepped closer, and his fingers flexed as he fought to keep from touching the other man. He stared into the ravine for a moment, and then back at Ethan. When he exhaled, his breath fogged around him. "Ethan, it killed me to see. Never hated that bitch more than that moment. I was..." he shook his head slowly. "....fumin'."