daretosee | For whatisthatmelody

For whatisthatmelody | Talon AU

Harold Winston is a geneticist.

His work was never meant to be used to hurt people nor would he have ever thought he'd be working for people actively trying to cause chaos in the world. Working probably wasn't the right word, forcefully blackmailed into helping Talon was more like it. It was exactly what it was. They didn't have anything against him when it came to his work or things he'd done in his life, no, they used the only family he still had left against him, because Talon had no morals.

As far as anyone knew Dr. Harold Winston was dead, which after surviving the Horizon Lunar Colony incident was a slap in the face. To his peers, to his mother and father, to all the work he'd done in his life. Now he was used to try and keep Gabriel Reyes in some semblance of one piece, his body a nightmare of genes and molecules fighting to stay together. Moira was always doing tests and injecting him with new things, but at the same time expecting him to have some input at the same time. She didn't think working with him would help at all, it would, but it wasn't like he saw her as a colleague, but he had to do his best to work with her like he did.

For years now if it wasn't working on Reaper it was helping Moira with her own work and continuing keep up on their resident sniper. A poor brainwashed ballet dancer they'd tortured into becoming a heartless murderer. Among other things. Harold can't look at himself in the mirror anymore, not that he likes what he sees anyway. A shadow of himself, hair much grayer than years ago before his disappearance and assumed death by mysterious means. He looks tired, sad, his crows feet much more defined and dark bags under his eyes from having many restless nights. Plenty contemplating ending his own life, but he couldn't. Whether he was a coward or he feared Talon truly would go and murder his parents, who deserved to live the rest of their lives in peace...

All of it snaps so strongly into focus when Moira is explaining a new asset to him, leading him to the room they have them in. Apparently they have great promise, but are extremely volitile and dangerous, so of course they're going to have him, their fairly expendable scientist, expendable as he's not loyal to Talon, try to fix things. She hands him a thick folder of information on their asset, Subject Sigma, before guiding him into the room and gleefully in that deep silky voice of hers chuckling.

"Do play nice gentlemen." And she'll leave him then, alone with this man who's in some sort of straight jacket and has a mask covering the bottom half of his face. The room is mostly bare beyond a seat for Harold to sit in, it's more like a prison cell in here then anything else. It's inhumane that they haven't given this man a bed, that he's strapped up like some mad animal, but flipping the folder open as he comes to take a seat he realizes exactly why things are as they are. It's also when he realizes he has a ghost in front of him on the cold floor of the room.

"Siebren?" Spoken soft, unbelieving, but it's there in the folder, a picture of Dr. Siebren de Kuiper, a folio on him and a full report on what happened years ago on Horizon Lunar Colony when his work went disastrously wrong. There's more of course, countless reports on his quarantine in the government facility Talon had broken him out of, but right now he doesn't care about that. He doesn't consider anything beyond that the man he'd thought long dead and never got to say goodbye to so long ago was right in front of him, his gray eyes the only thing of his he could see as he knelt down in front of him.

"Is that really you?" There's a lump in his throat, his chest feels tight. What in the world is he supposed to do?

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One moment he's starting to push up back onto his feet, the next he's swept off them. It's a sensation he's felt before, zero gravity, out in space on the lunar base. There had been more then a handful of times the gravity went on the base and everyone ended up floating, amusing then, a shock now.

In an instant the reason for Siebren being here made sense.

Harold flails in the air for a second but tries to stay calm, glances to see the chair he'd meant to use to sit in floating as well. Then he looks at Siebren, who looked so scared.

Scared he'd hurt him? Harold hadn't even considered it, even now. The whole event lasts for mear seconds and he's landing on the floor a bit awkwardly but in one piece. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath during it, taking a deep breath before letting it out as he fixed his glasses.

"It's okay, Siebren, it's okay." Even though his voice shakes as he assures him of it, the chair behind him didn't fair as kindly as him. One legs broken off from it's hard landing since it hadn't been Siebren's focus.

He can't stand that stupid muzzle on him any longer, clearly it didn't stop him from doing. That. What was the point to keeping it on. Harold moves then, standing close to reach behind his head to unclasp it and removes the infernal thing before tossing it aside.

"It's okay." It hurt to see him like this, looking so fragile, tears stinging his eyes. How in the world was he going to fix this?

"Did I do something that upset you?" What caused that reaction, so there hopefully won't be a repeat.

"Harold!"

His throat is dry from simultaneously not being used and the screaming from when he was muzzled. He'd heard the music...the melody of time and space and it had been maddening when no one else could...and then the room and its equipment had been destroyed and he could not remember how.

"Harold Winston...from the Horizon Lunar Colony...but that...that's not where we are....is it?"

He asked tentatively, just to be sure...just to make sure this was right. He had no idea if anyone was listening or not...but he had to be sure this was indeed his Harold Winston. There were uncountable Harold Winstons in every version of reality but only one was his.

"Harold...I...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm not safe, Harold.

He paused, distracted by the question. He shook his head.

"No...no never. I...I panicked is all. I was afraid you would leave me and I would...slip away. It is so hard to tell when things are and what's real and what has happened before...and sometimes I hear the music...and I try to focus on it...it is trying to tell me something, Harold! But just when I think I've got it...the world goes black and I'm stuck reliving memories out of time....but I've never...had this memory before...so I know...that you're real."

He blinked back tears and smiled softly, nodding his head. Yes, Harold was real.

The way his name croaks from the other man's throat sounds painful, enough to make him wince. Harold let's him talk, he gets the feeling he's not had the option to for some time and even if he had no one had listened. How can a man larger than life look so small and skittish, because that's all he can think of looking at Siebren now.

A man who had always stood tall and proud, a man who worked hard and gave so much.

Here he was stuttering with a hoarse voice with his legs pulled up against his chest like a scared child, his arms bound to his chest in a straight jacket. If only they could go back in time and things had gone differently.

"No, this isn't Horizon Lunar Colony, but it's me, Siebren. It's Harold." He can at least assure him of that much. Then there's so much more, it would sound like mad babbling, and it does, but he listens intently, trying to make sense of it. A lot of what happened when Siebren's experiment went wrong had been confidential. They weren't told much, just that Dr. de Kuiper hadn't survived. That part of the colony had been completely quarantined until the government and their people had managed to "clean" it, but even then it had been locked up and never reused. Still deemed too dangerous from any lasting effects. Better off just pretending none of it had happened.

But Harold could never forget. How could he? He had pictures of him and Siebren, them with Subject 28... with Winston as he called himself now. He couldn't just pretend Siebren never existed.

"The music...?" He asks, more to himself but at the same time out loud. He should go, he should take the folder with all the papers and pictures in it, classified things he needs to read and come back later, but he can't leave him like this. Not when it seems like he's the one thing keeping Siebren tethered to reality, or this... reality? So he moves to sit beside him, gently urging him to lay on his side and put his head on his lap. Relax.

Alas he can't thread his fingers in Siebren's hair any longer, but he can at least touch him, sooth him, like he had years ago. There were some days where his mind would just not let him relax, full of equations and billions of ideas he had for his experiments. So he'd have to literally make him relax, even if it still dealt with his work. He'd have Siebren tell him about all that stuff in his head, in that brilliant mind of his, fingers carding through thin hair that did it's best to hold on, smiling softly as he listened, humming here and there. Soon enough he'd have one very long Dr. de Kuiper awkwardly curled up on his bed with his head in his lap, snoozing as he read over files and drank his tea quietly.

He hoped he could at least do that for him here as well.

"We're going to help you. You won't be dangerous once you learn to control this." It feels rotten coming out of his mouth, because that's what Talon wants. They want a new weapon, but Harold isn't going to help Siebren because of that, he wants to help him control this and get a hold on his mind, to be able to choose to do what he wants once he's better. Right now he can't do that.

"I'm right here, you're here... I won't leave you okay? I'm here, Siebren." He's not just some figment, this isn't a memory of another time. Fingers lightly smooth over Siebren's brow and his head that isn't covered with metal. He'd like to take a closer look, but he doesn't want to upset or hurt him right now. Another time. Same with asking about the music, what happened to him, what he's been through. It seems like too much to ask of him now, he doesn't want to incite another panicked moment.

Later.

"It's going to be okay now..."

It feels like a lifetime ago that Harold had held his head in his lap on Horizon, stroking his hair and listening to him ramble on about equations and theories. It feels like a memory that belonged to someone else. Whoever has been keeping him has kept his hair shaved. It was never long to begin with...but it was never not there. There's a metal plate on the back of his skull now, which Harold will see should he look.

He can feel Harold guiding his head to his lap...just like before. It feels familiar, reassuring. Siebren eased on his side carefully, as best he can manage the way he's restrained. Those fingers smoothing over his brow and over his head. He nodded, relief flooding over him that he could have some small semblance of normalcy.

There's nothing normal about this at all...but Harold is here.

Siebren sighed and let out a shaking breath.

"Yes...you are here. Yes...yes, it is going to be okay now."

Moira quickly realizes that Talon has gotten very lucky having him around where it concerns Siebren. Or Sigma as they call him. He hates that, it's what they called him where he'd been held for years. Subject Sigma. It dehumanized him. Harold won't ever call him that, he'll always be Siebren, that's who he is.

"It must be nice having an old colleague here now." Moira asks him one day, that tone to her voice insinuating she's trying to get under his skin. He tries to ignore her mostly or reply as neutrally as possible.

"Dr. de Kuiper was a good friend. His work on Horizon was amazing." To which Moira chuckles a little, "Oh of course, until it went so very wrong." He has to push the anger and hurt down, he doesn't want to rise to her negging. She places a hand on his shoulder, her false comfort burning and uncomfortable.

"A happy reunion I'm certain." It's a week later after Siebren's arrival that Moira and her staff remove that metal plate on his head. Something about how it will help with his psychological problems, some. Help stabilize him. The strange blue covering that keeps his brain from being potentially damaged doesn't make Harold feel any better. Part of him wonders if they've done anything to control him, if they've altered his mind more than it already has been. It's not information he's privy to.

Harold just does his best to help Siebren find some focus, to help center himself and feel. Safe. They've been working on this gravity thing of Siebren's. On emotions and control. Baby steps here and there, because he doesn't want him to hurt himself, doesn't want him to lose control. He's no longer confined to the straight jacket, but he's still not allowed to move around the Talon base yet, mostly he just sees Harold and Moira, but Harold has most definitely been labeled his caretaker. He visits him with lunch, all easy finger foods, a couple sandwiches for them to share, veggies and dip and an apple.

Nice and red and perfect.

"Hello, Siebren, how are you feeling?" He'll set the tray down on the bed that they've finally moved into his room. He has a bed and a small table and chair for now. They don't want to fill his room with too many things that could be broken or flung about. The bed is a nice big thick memory foam one, with no frame. No headboard. It's thankfully big enough for Siebren, so that's a small miracle.

"I hope you're hungry, I was hoping we could have lunch together."

Between Moira's tinkering and Harold's presence, Siebren seems to have stabilized enough to at least be coherent. He had stopped babbling incessantly almost as soon as Moira and her staff removed the plate in his head and replaced it with a cap of sorts. He recognized her...knew her work...and thus, did not resist whenever they worked on him. Bit by bit, he seemed to be starting to come back to himself. His time lapses were not as frequent and then they happened, they seemed to be kept isolated to parts of him or an external object.

His orange straight jacket and jumpsuit were gone, replaced with a black shirt and jogging pants with red trim. The color was right, but the Talon emblem was absent. They were significantly more comfortable than what he had brought in in.

Siebren was seated on the edge of that memory foam mattress. His legs were almost useless at this point. He's need extensive physical therapy to walk, but he'd managed to pull himself up to a sitting position with his legs hanging off the side. He could move them...but they wouldn't bear his weight to walk.

He was staring into space then...something was whispering just below what he could hear...a whisper...a sound...steady...a melody...

...and then Harold was there...placing that tray beside him on the bed and he smiled. His grey eyes fixated on that bright red apple. It seemed to glitch in his eyes, shifting back and forth between the apple that Harold had brought and that beautiful Christmas apple Harold had given him and back again. He shook his head and blinked.

"Oh...Harold...yes, of course."

He gave a sigh of relief, having held it together.

The way those gray eyes are unfocused, Harold knows it's the music. Voices perhaps, but definitely 'that melody'. Siebren mentions it a lot, usually just a quiet off handed thing he probably doesn't realize he's doing.

Harold waits until he sees him focus, on him, on anything and he smiles warmly when he does.

"I hope bologne is fine? I attempted to make things healthier, tomatoes and lettuce are in there too." He wants him to well, it will help get his strength back. His legs will take more work for sure, but eating terribly won't do him any favors.

He's cut their sandwiches in half to make them easier to eat. He offers a plastic plate with one on it to Siebren.

"How are you feeling?" He'll ask it again, in a tone more like small talk than doctor trying to gauge things.

The warm smile on Harold's face is soothing...it feels right...it holds him in the moment....keeps him tethered to the now. He smiled softly and nodded.

"Yes, of course. It will suit fine. I'm sure the kitchen is unfamiliar with maatjesharing and I shudder to think what the hospital version of that would taste like."

Siebren reaches out and takes the plate.

"Ah, bedankt."

He sounds like his old self...not all the way...he's not quite there yet...but there were some familiar inflections in his speech that Harold would notice. He paused, thinking.

"Better than I have in a long time."

Something seemed to go unsaid.

Grey eyes focused on that sandwich.

"It...has been years...actual years...hasn't it?"

Unfortunately for Siebren I their time on the moon they hadn't been able to get that dish of his up on the moon, but he'd told him of it. Harold had seen pictures and honestly it just sounded like a different shade if sardines. While it's nothing he'd enjoy, he'd like to try and do that for him now.

Or when possible. It was the little things that would be best for Siebren, or so he's found.

"The idea of a hospital version of that is worse than the original." Harold wrinkles his nose, tone teasingly picking on him.

He has noticed, if his time carrying for the primates on Horizon taugt him anything it was slow progress. Little signs of things changing. Siebren's speech was already leaps better, but there was still plenty of him talking to himself. Or maybe it was other... memories, other selves?

He's not entirely sure. He just knows sometimes he's not all there and it can be hard to get him back. Harold I chewing a bite carefully when Siebren questions him, really he's surprised he's not asked more, but again he knows that he's still having a hard time coming to terms where he is. When he is.

It's probably best he doesn't ask specifics, there's a lot Harold can't tell him, as much as he wants to. Like how he's being used by Talon, both of them are. It feels like he's betraying his trust, he is if really stops lying to himself, but it would be dangerous for them both if he told Siebren anything right now.

"... too many I'm afraid." Said after he swallows, then with some hesitation, "Over a decade." His eyes lower some, realizing just how long it has been. Thankfully not all of them with Talon. Five years ago Dr. Winston mysteriously disappeared and no one has seen him since. Now they're both assumed dead.

He smiled at that little nose wrinkle. Oh, hoe he'd missed Harold's little faces that the man made. Well...in a manner of speaking. He'd seen them lots of times in his episodes...but he'd not seen this one...not in this room. It made it better...it let him know he was in the right place and time.

Harold's revelation hits him like a ton of bricks. He'd assumed a few...two or three...five at most...but ten? Most likely more than ten? It felt like someone had pulled the floor out from under him.

It has been too long...he's so far behind...lost so much time...over a decade of his life was just gone...held against his will, falling from memory to memory...hearing that elusive song...those whispers that no one else seemed to....

The air around him thrummed..and his face seemed to fall, losing all traces of warmth and replaced with a hardness that was unlike the man Harold had known...almost like it was someone else entirely. Whispers filled his ears and the edges of his vision began to blur.

No...No! Come on, hold it together!

"Hold it together." he whispered to himself.

Harold was here...if he lost control....Harold could be hurt. The last thing he wanted was to come back to his senses and find out he'd injured Harold or...or worse.

His head suddenly shook, grey eyes blinked back into focus and Siebren de Kuiper was there again. The energy that had filled the air fizzled out of existence.

Siebren stared at his sandwich and then at Harold, shaking slightly...not quite sure what had happened.

"Th-thank you...for being honest. You were always honest with me."

It is true , he was.

"I'm not well, Harold. Something happened...in the experiment. It failed and...I don't know what happened or how I left that lab on Horizon...how I got back to Earth...I don't...can't remember any of that."

He feels the change before he sees it. It's almost like when there's to much of an electric charge in the air, the hairs on his arms stand up and everything just feels. Off. Thankfully this time it didn't include being lifted off the ground.

"Siebren?" He's talking to himself, his stare is so far away and he's not sure if what he should do to help. Reaching out to touch him, Harold doesn't quite get there before those gray eyes suddenly come back into focus and that feeling goes away.

Guilt makes him lose his appetite, staring down at his own plate, the half eaten sandwich no longer touched. Harold wished he could be fully honest with him, tell him everything, but he couldn't. Not now. He'll swallow the lump in his throat down, pushing his glasses up.

"I'm here to help you, Siebren. It won't be easy, but together we'll push through this. Okay?" He has to force the reassuring smile onto his lips, "... I wish I knew all the details too, when your experiment failed it made a black hole, for the briefest moment. You only were subjected to it for seconds, if that." Harold just knew he never saw Siebren after that experiment, they'd all been quarantined away from the accident until Siebren could be removed and the area shut down and sectioned off. The fluctuations in gravity too dangerous.

"The government took care of everything, it was all confidential. I was told you died shortly after you were taken away..." He hadn't even been able to try and gather anything from Siebren's room or office. All of it, everything. Confiscated. Taken. All of a sudden it was like Siebren de Kuiper never existed.

"Once you're better we might be able to find more detailed information on everything. I just don't think you're ready for that right now I'm afraid." Mentally, Siebren was still to broken and fragile. One day he might be able to let Siebren see the file on the Horizon incident that he had in his room.

Right now he had to keep it from him. For his safety. Their safety.

Siebren stared at his sandwich and his hands started to shake. He shook his head again.

"But...but I was not dead, Harold."

It made sense why no one had come to see him...why he had never heard from Harold or his family...everyone had been told he had been killed in his experiment. His work had been taken...so he could not even have it to work from. He could not even begin to see where it had gone wrong-there was no way to trace the source of the error.

It did not matter anyway. Harold had just said it had been over a decade...he was so far behind current studies and ideas. His work was most likely not even relevant.

He shook his head again.

Now was not the time to think of that. He had to get better before he could even begin to examine whatever pieces Harold had found. He took several deep, steadying breaths before slowly nodding.

"Yes. When I'm better...when I'm ready. I know that we can do anything together. I...I don't want to get lost again."

Its now that it feels right to touch him, take one of those hands that's shaking slightly and try to anchor him. Harold squeezes his hand to offer comfort, but maybe it's a comfort to him as well. It's probably selfish if him to be happy Siebren is here with him now, stuck in Talon's claws.

This isn't the future he wanted fir them.

"I thought about you... every day, for so long." Harold wants to lament, to tell him so much, but it feels wrong to make this about himself. Siebren is the one who's been wronged. He might be in a bad place when it comes to Talon, but at least he's still his own person. What happened to Siebren, what the government did to him...

"I'm glad we could be together again." Though it could never be the same, could it? Back then it had been a question between them, what would become of their relationship when Siebren went back to Earth. They never got that chance.

"It seems difficult now, but I promise you, I won't let you go, Siebren." He's not going to lose him again either.

It feels like a lifetime has passed since he has felt those kind, soft and strong hands on his. They succeed in anchoring him as Harold had hoped. At hearing how the other man had mourned, he reassuringly squeezed back.

"Thank you."

He smiled softly.

"I'm glad we are together again for the first time."

Again.

This was new again. The treatment he had been given had kept him mostly grounded. He was able to actually exist in the proper moment for multiple days now...it was the longest he had gone without an episode. Baby steps, it seemed.

Warmth and happiness swelled in Siebren's chest for the first time in a long time. He felt safe...secure...comforted. He nodded.

"I won't let you go, either."

"It seems the universe keeps putting us in each other's orbit." It just feels so bitter sweet. What life could they have had? What life can they have here? It's not like they can just go back to how they were before.

It had been years, while time hadn't really moved for Siebren, it had for Harold. Not that he had ever gotten over him in that time. Probably sad to most people, but how could he forget a man like Siebren de Kuiper? He was a perfect half to his own and it had all be taken from them.

"I know-" And dangit he wasn't going to do this, or he'd tried not to, but the wetness stings at the corner of his eyes and with one hand he pushes his glasses up to rub at them, shuddering out a heavy sigh. He can't do this. It's not fair to Siebren.

"After um, after we're done eating we should work on your physical therapy. It's your legs today." They go back and forth each day, focusing on his lower body then his upper. His legs had atrophied the worst, but pushing them too hard every day wouldn't be good either.

Siebren put his sandwich down on his plate and smiled thoughtfully.

"It does. Like gravity."

When he looked up, Harold was crying, trying to hide it by going back to business, rubbing his eyes to keep from crying. It hurts him to see the other man in such pain. He reached out but then stopped. He wanted more than anything to comfort him, to pull him close...and he reaches out with a hand.

"Harold?"

He's not going anywhere. They can do his physical therapy in a bit. He wanted to comfort the man, the one he had been absent from for so long...longer than he thought...the man he had held so close...now that one he loved so much was in pain. All he wanted to do was hold hm again...stroke that grey hair of his soothingly and do his best to assure him they could do anything together.

The thrumming was suddenly back, but it was softer, more focused specifically on Harold. There were whispers in Siebren's ears...and he waved his hand softly towards himself, willing it...and Harold Winston lightly lifted off the side of his bed and was pulled into his arms. Siebren was careful...so very careful to hold Harold so as not to crush him. There was faint music in his ear...but it was softer than usual...and it faded when as Harold landed in his lap. It was very hard for him not to squeeze Harold tightly...but he lacked the strength to do it...and he feared that his powers might suddenly rise up again and crush the man...but they did not...so he sat there with a startled Harold in his lap. It seemed no one escaped gravity. The two of them just kept being pulled back together. He pressed a kiss onto the top of Harold's head...into his thin hair.

It seemed his attempt to deflect didn't go well at all. Siebren sees right through it. He should have guessed, even with his current state of mind, it wasn't like he was stupid or blind. There's an attempt to brush things off, but not before that feeling returns. Harold barely lifts his head to look at Siebren before he's floating up off the bed, not much at all, and being moved right onto Siebren's lap.

"Sieb-" He really shouldn't be doing these sorts of thing right now, his focus isn't that good yet, it could be dangerous... but once he's in his arms he can't argue or say much else. He'll shift a little to wrap his arms around his neck, sighing softly at the kiss pressed against his head.

"... I'm sorry, I know this can't be easy for you."

Siebren tentatively stroked Harold's hair...being careful...making sure he didn't slip...focusing on the weight of the man in his lap, the feel of his fingers on Harold's hair...not singular focus...but rather the sensation of specific details. He found it helped him...the fact that it was Harold made it easier. After all this time...he'd come back to him. It had not been Harold's fault....he had not known.

"It isn't."

It was true. Nothing had been easy. He had not been himself in more than a decade. Screaming himself hoarse while falling through memories where no one acknowledged him...where he could not control things...he just lived through them over and over all the while aware he was held down. The music...the voices were incessant...always screaming in his ears...but since Harold and Dr. O'Deorain had been working on him...he'd gotten to at least...perceive time normally again...to not have to be tied down....to not utterly destroy everything in the room with him.

"But it is easier with you here."

Siebren being there made it easier for Harold too. They were able to keep each other grounded, as much as Harold tried his best to not seem affected by anything. Breaking down that little bit some weeks ago had been bad enough.

There's so much he wanted to tell Siebren, but couldn't, he hoped one day he could. Whether that ruined his trust in him or not, he deserved it.

Things physically have been progressing a little slowly, at least with Siebren's legs, but he was getting stronger and his upper body strength was leaps better than it had been. Today Harold brings a bunch of foam balls with him and a tablet. The balls are for Siebren to practice his focus and control, they're light and if things go awry neither of them could be hurt.

The tablet is to take notes and video on Siebren's progress.

"Start with one at a time, we can work up to more." They had a dozen there, but it would take some time for him to be able to control them all at once.

"You already seem good at lifting things, but it's being able to keep that control while you move things around. Especially multiple objects."

Siebren was happier than he had been in years, though that was not saying much. He had kept up with his physical therapy...but it seemed something was off. He had not seen the sun...he never even left his room. Harold came to him with food and projects. He did not say anything. Harold would tell him if he could. He would have to be patient.

Sure enough, the other man entered the room with a tablet and a collection of foam balls. He nodded as he listened to Harold's plan.

"Yes. I think that is a good proposal for improvement."

Leave it to Harold to think of something so simple but so effective.

He focused on one of the balls...the thrumming vibration began to reverbate around them. The small foam orb lifted up. Siebren focused on it...visualized it moving, even moving his hand a bit...the foam ball faltered for a moment, but regained its position, rotating, then dipping up and down...yes...yes...that wasn't too hard at all.

Eventually Siebren would get to go outside, but it probably wouldn't be until Talon considered him ready for active duty. He was still far from that. Harold would have to try and convince Moira that allowing him to go out would be beneficial, to gauge how he'd do with all the outside stimulation.

Would he be able to handle it? In his little room with no windows it was easy to contain things. It was quiet and there were no real distractions. Better to test that out before he's sent on a mission and reacts poorly.

"You're already doing well, Siebren." Harold smiles, finger tapping on the tablet screen to enter in some basic information.

"When you're comfortable try adding a second one, but only go as fast as you feel you can."

Siebren nodded, willing a second small ball...and a third. The three small balls spun and wove through the air. He guided them into gravitational orbits and added a fourth....a fifth...and the music began to whisper.

"Harold? Can you hear that music?"

He asked in a hushed tone, as if even mentioning it loudly would cause it to stop. It was so simple...but he could not make it out. He...he wasn't imagining it...was he?

A sixth small ball....and a seventh were drawn into his spiraling collection.

Going as fast as felt comfortable seemed to be all at once almost. Harold looks up with his brows knitting, about to say something, but then Siebren asks if he can hear the music.

That's never a good sign.

"... there's no music, Siebren." He says it carefully, not trying to insinuate that he's hearing things. Perhaps Siebren does actually hear music. Maybe it's real, but because of what he went through only he can hear it.

But not in like... a crazy way. Though it always seemed to herald a bad reaction. Harold keeps calm, it wouldn't help to be otherwise.

"Maybe we should take things a little slower-" Doing so much at once could be stressing him out without realizing.

Siebren twitched at that...almost protectively...as if Harold had threatened to take something from him. He could do it. He could do their parlor tricks. He knew they had to start small. Small proving grounds for further treatment...to prove he could get better.

He unfolded from his reflexive cringe.

Harold couldn't hear it...but that elusive piano-esque melody sang in his ears...the more he tried to listen to it...the harder it became to make out. ...so he stopped trying to hear it...let it flow through his head...its melody became more apparent.

"No...I can do it."

He turned his focus inward...felt the music in his very bones. He looked up at Harold and smiled...but it was not his usual, warm smile...it was something else...something slightly unhinged.

"Harold...the universe...sings for me."

The thrumming returned...but Siebren focused inward so that it would not touch Harold...or the limited amount of furniture would be unaffected. He was tired of this...tired of being held back...tired of being an invalid. Weeks of physical therapy to deal with a forced imprisonment that should never have happened...should have never been forced on him. He could do THIS. Bit by bit, he willed himself off the bed...off the ground...one hand still swirling his collection of foam balls, the other clenched into a fist as he focused, keeping himself levitated a few inches off the ground.

He feels bad, the way Siebren looks when he says there's no music. When he suggests he slows down. It's not that he thinks he can't do it, but to much too fast could be bad too. He can only imagine how frustrating it must be to be in his position.

"I know you can, but we don't want to overexert you." Siebren was the kind of man who could do anything he wanted if he put his mind to it, Harold had no doubt in him.

He hates the spike of fear that runs up his spine when that strange feeling fills the room. The hairs on his arms stand up and it's not Siebren he's afraid of, he's not afraid he'll hurt him, he hasn't yet after all, but it's that smile. That smile that is nothing he's ever seen from him before.

Harold is afraid of the universe and what it seems to be telling Siebren. He can only gape as the other man rises, hovering over the bed as he still controls the foam balls with one hand. It's amazing, truely, but a part of him dreads what this means for Talon.

For whatisthatmelody | Talon AU

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