Looking In A Mirror - for doc_suresh

It's been four weeks since I've met my brother but it feels like we've been together for our entire lives.  Perhaps that's because he is me.  Or would have been me if I stayed in my own place and time.  I still do not know how I arrived here, though I have been assured by a Hiro Nakamura who is not Hiro Nakamura that I can not go back. 

Now, looking down at this man -- this older me, my poor brother -- as he lies half unconscious and in pain from trying to save me from the disaster a stray cup of chai had caused, I feel myself over come with emotions.  My eyes tear up as I gather his hand in mine, my fingers shaking as they close around his digits, and I have to close the lids on the off chance that he wakes up and looks over at me.

His second operation is scheduled for tomorrow.

"Mohinder," I lament in our native tongue.  "How could you have been so stupid...?"  The thought of losing him, on top of everything else, is far too much.