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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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.

Harold always cared about him. In the back of his mind, it means to world that he believes in him...and those are the words he'll remember later when he's alone in his room staring at the ceiling while he tries to sleep but his brain was being too stubborn...but that's later.

Now, he's trying to keep his grip on what was happening...it seemed easier to keep those small balls in motion...if he kept himself up. It should have frightened him, but it did not. He'd spent the last decade being horrified more often than not.

It felt different. It felt powerful...Harold was right. He could do it. The universe sang to him...didn't it? It chose him. Horribly so, but it did.

His concentration on hovering up made everything else in the room fall away. There was a dull hum in his ears, the melody played on beneath it. Harold could not hear it, but it was there. Grey eyes lost their manic glint and they flitted to Harold. He had seemingly popped back into Siebren's field of vision all on his own. Nothing else in the room, just Harold.

And just like that, everything collapsed.

A momentary lapse in his concentration made him drop...those little foam balls went flying...but he managed to catch himself before he hit the floor. With a deep breath, he slowly lifted himself up into a standing position...inch by inch, he eased up until he was "standing," albeit hovering a few inches off the ground.

"Ah...crisis nearly avoided."

Harold can't be sure how long it all lasts, it feels like forever, bit he's holding his breath through it all. Until Siebren falls. He moves forward as if to catch him, or even break his fall, but at the last second he's caught himself and Harold lets out a heavy sigh of relief.

It feels more normal again, this is his Siebren he's sure of it.

"Are you alright?" You scared me, is there in his tone, but he doesn't voice it. Looking up at him now is even more if a task than before. Siebren was already tall, now he was floating off the ground!

"Look at you, your head is further up in the clouds than before."

Siebren blinked at the question.

Was he alright? He felt alright. He could flex his toes and fingers. His breathing was steady. The melody had gone quiet...but he could still feel it...the aftershocks of it...and here he was...still floating. He was focusing on it still, of course, but not nearly as much as he had before. It was more like...focusing a muscle. He'd been doing that a lot lately, so this was similar...even if there was no muscle to focus on.

"Yes....Yes, I think so."

He cautiously willed himself to the left...then to the right...just by inches...but he did indeed move, still hovering an inch or two off the ground.

That little joke caught him by surprise. It should not have, but it did. His life had been so horrible for the last, well...decade, it turned out that he had not anticipated the impact of one of Harold's cute flirtations. He laughed...his real laugh, from deep inside him. It rocked his body so hard small tears eked out of his eyes. After a few moments, he sniffed and wiped his eyes.

"Caught me off guard a bit, Harold. But my....still always know what to say to get me weak in the knees...so to speak."

He bristled for a moment.

He hadn't meant to overstep his bounds. It had been a decade for Harold after all, surely...surely he had moved on. He hadn't asked because he did not want to be upset in front of Harold any more than he had to be. It was only fair that Harold did move on, after all. Harold had thought he was dead. Harold Winston had had a life before he came into it and would after he..."died." He didn't have ill will toward Harold at all...it was just so colossally unfair.

"I'm sorry...I...hope I did not overstep."

He's defying known physics and he's not concerned with that at all...only that he hadn't done something inappropriate at this point in time.

Siebren had never been one to do things in small increments. Always pushing boundaries, of course triple and quadruple checking things along the way. Seeing him push himself more, floating side to side, it's amazing. More than any of them could have predicted.

They couldn't predict anything when it came to Siebren and his powers. How could they? What Harold also doesn't expect is the laugh that comes from him, so genuine and happy. Truly happy. He can't imagine that's easy for Siebren to feel at all now. For a moment it feels like before, before the Horizon incident, before he'd lost him and he can't help the warm smile that tugs at his lips.

"Hm? Overstep...?" Confusion furrows his brows, but of course. Right. He knows how long it's been, probably assumes he's found someone else, or he no longer feels that way for him. Maybe if they'd stayed together, maybe they would have drifted apart at some point, but life had torn Siebren away from him.

It had left a gapping hole I his life, his heart. For years he'd tried his best to move on, to get over it all, but he couldn't. Harold didn't want to.

"God, Siebren-" Harold gives a little laugh, taking his glasses off, a rush of feelings he's has to push down for so long coming back up. Shaking his head he can feel the welling of tears trying to sneak out of the corner of his eyes.

"No, no you were never one to." He folds his glasses up and hooks them on his shirt.

"There's nothing to overstep, I promise." He just hadn't been sure if it would be okay to talk about their relationship, to... to expect anything. Siebren's mind and his perception of reality were so fragile at times, was it fair to even consider?

Siebren's face softened with a look of concern.

"Harold?"

His voice was gentle, tentative. He willed himself closer to the other man, reaching out to softly place a hand on Harold's shoulder...but it traveled up to cup Harold'cheek as the other man continued to speak.

"Harold...I know...I'm not well...I'm not who I used to be....there are times when I don't know what is happening...I can't remember...but I always remember you."

It's so hard not to tilt his face into the hand that's on his cheek, to press into the comfort of it, but he stops himself. His eyes close for a moment while Siebren speaks, before he looks up at him, so far up than what he was used to. It's such an effort not to succumb to the sadness in his heart, but it doesn't feel fair to do this to Siebren. Everything he's going through, he doesn't need this too.

"I know, I know and that's why I can't..." But he wants to, "Your perception of time and reality is still so fragile, I would be taking advantage of that, of you, if I- if we..." If the past became the present again. Maybe it would be good for Siebren, maybe not. Harold seemed to be the tether to some sort of baseline for Siebren.

He just doesn't want to make things harder or more confusing for him.

"You deserve better, Harold. You deserve someone you can have a life with."

His lower lip trembled, but he forced a smile and ran his thumb across Harold's cheek.

"You do. You deserve the world and more. I...I don't think I could stop loving you if I tried."

He sighed shakily.

There. He'd said it. For the first time in a decade he'd said it out loud to Harold himself.

"And that's the truth....but this..."

He gestured at himself.

"This isn't normal! I don't even know what this is...where I am...I haven't seen a god damn tree in ten years...haven't felt the sun or the wind on my face. That's no life for you, Harold."

He understood his isolation to a degree. When his powers fluctuated, he was a danger to others...but why lie? Why the cover up? Why say he was dead? Why had he been held without anyone explaining to him why?

It made his head and his heart hurt.

He sank an inch or two, but still hovering off the ground, looking deflated for a moment before taking a deep breath and forcing a smile.

"You were never one to take advantage. All you did was give."

His head shakes on its own accord at the words tumbling from Siebren's mouth. No, no don't. It's never been about if they could have a life together, their work would have kept them apart a large chunk if time as it were back then. Harold never expected a white picket fence, a dog and kids.

Besides he hadn't had much of a life since Talon had scooped him up.

Then those three little words, it hits harder than he could have imagined. Harold can't be sure if his heart swells from pain or happiness, maybe both. Siebren keeps talking, airing frustrations he has every right to have and it's only when he reigns himself in, smiles down at him that Harold steps close, pressing his face into Siebren's chest, arms wrapping around him.

"There's so much… so much-" His voice hiccups a little as he holds back tears, he wants to tell him everything. He can't. Not yet. Siebren is still too unstable, Talon still too powerful.

"I love you." His voice wavers, but he means it. By God does it feel good to say, not to a headstone or a goddamn memory. To the man he thought long dead. Maybe Siebren wasn't the same man he'd known before, but it didn't matter. His heart didn't care.

"You're not some burden, helping you isn't something I don't deserve." Harold sniffs, pulling back to rub at his nose, the heel of his hand wiping at the corner of his eyes.

"You didn't deserve this, we didn't deserve to any of this." And he takes, Siebren's hand, presses it to his own cheek, smiles sadly as he nuzzles into it, turning his head to kiss at his knuckles.

"I couldn't do anything for you back then, they can't take me away from you now." Talon would have to take his life to stop him. Not that he didn't doubt they would.

When Harold wrapped his arms around him, Siebren tried to find a place to put his other hand before settling on Harold's shoulder blade, fingers curled in and clutching Harold's coat. His heart skipped at Harold's confession and there was suddenly a very large lump in his throat that made it difficult to swallow.

He was flabbergasted.

He'd been so fond of Harold...but the time they had together was relatively short. After learning just how long he had been gone, he had not wanted to even mention it. Surely Harold had moved on...surely...but surely not, it turned out.

"Oh...."

His eyes stung and his throat burned. Siebren audibly swallowed and hugged Harold back tightly.

"After all this time...still."

And Harold nuzzled his hand...kissed his knuckles.

Siebren shook his head.

"No...they can't."

Whoever they had been.

Harold Winston was a man married to his work, he'd never been one to seek out relationships or put much focus on them. Meeting Siebren, becoming a colleague and friend... it was embarrassingly quick how he found himself fancying him as more than both.

Once they'd started seeing each other it was like he'd found tge other half to himself. A half he hadn't realized he needed.

Maybe all these years he's just been in love with the memory of a man. Maybe right here and now, wrapped in Siebren's arms he didn't care if that were true. He knew their future would and couldn't ever be normal, who knew what each day would be, but they had each other and that's more than he ever thought he'd have again.

For what feels like forever goes by, just holding each other, it's probably only a minute, but Harold finds his voice again. Even then it's still soft.

"... I still went you know. To the Netherlands." Would Siebren remember that? What they had planned? It would have only been a few days after his experiment, if it had gone well.

"Your funeral, some of your colleagues, family..." He clears his throat, trying to keep his emotions in check, "I stayed for a few days after, tried to see the beauty in the lands you'd spoke so highly of. It was hard without you there."

There is a spark in his brain at that. A flicker of a memory. Prior to Moira and Harold's stabilization treatments, it would have sent him down a spiral of memories detached from the current present. He could hear the light hum of whatever device was embedded in his scalp that prevented it. He gave his head a slight shake, gathering his thoughts.

He remembered coming up with a list....He and Harold were supposed to go together...he would show him his homeland...his lab and home in The Hague. They'd walk along the sea and get coffee and poffertjes from his favorite kiosk.

"You did....I remember we talked about it. I...thank you. I'm sorry I could not be the one to show it to you."

He stroked Harold's thin hair.

"I want to see it, Harold. I want to go home...and I want you to come with me."

It was so long ago, but talking about it now it feels like way back then. If only for a moment. Harold still can't help feel selfish as Siebren pets at his hair, talks so soft and kindly to him.

Comforting him, but he wasn't the one who'd lost a decade of his life and still couldn't have a life even now. Talon may have broken him out of that hell he'd been in, but this was just a new prison.

"I want that too." But he knows that won't happen. Not now. Now any time soon. Not ever his mind supplies for him, but he doesn't want to think like that, not when he thought Siebren was long since dead and now he's here.

They're together again.

"One day," he can't promise him anything, pulling back he sniffs, wiping away any wetness on his face. He's got to get a hold of himself, for Siebren. With axsad little smile he forces himself to give, he squeezes Siebren's hand.

"Let's take it one step at a time though. I'm hoping we can take you outside soon, you're physically stronger and your grasp on reality and time is evening out every day." Yes, that's it, back to business, pull it together.

"We just want to make sure nothing happens if it's too much for you. Okay?"

It was comforting...a moment of normalcy...soothing...to hold Harold like this...to pat his head...even though Siebren's feet were not touching the ground, further reminding him that this was the furthest thing from normal.

Logically, he knew Harold was right.

If he were to have an...episode in The Hague, hundreds could die...and he's not so selfish as to endanger innocent lives so he can feel comfortable.

It was true...but..but why did things still feel off? Like there was something else he was missing?

He nodded. Yes, Harold was right again. It was safer to stay here while they worked things out. He was no longer bound and gagged...and he had not had an incident in weeks. His memory bursts lingered, but for minutes only, not hours or days...and even then he was aware that it was a memory.

Still....

"Harold?"

Siebren paused before lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Harold, Where are we?"

"Hm?" He blinks, then a pinch of dread sits in his stomach. Speaking of reality, was Siebren having a moment now?

Or was it a genuine question? Harold is going to take it as a genuine question and not Siebren suddenly not knowing where and when he was. To be fair he only knew they were both in a very large and impressive facility with state of the art equipment and highly knowledgeable staff.

The morality of them on the other hand...

"Venice. Italy." Harold smiles bit awkwardly, "A bit different from the moon I know."

It was, in fact, a genuine question. He'd maintained his hold on reality steadily enough to realize that he still had no idea where he was...where he actually was. He nodded at Harold's answer. Italy. Right. He knew where that was. Roughly. He'd never been, himself. Well...now it seemed he had.

"Venice. Understood. Right."

A real place, an actual location...it was somewhere he could center himself in relation to other things.

"Under other circumstances, I believe it could be romantic."

Right. A joke. That was what the old Siebren would do...make some clever side remark about it.

The little joke does get a sad smile out of Harold. Siebren was right, it would have been awfully romantic.

"Hopefully we can enjoy the sights at some point. Soon." Soon. Soon was so very unspecific, but it's all he could offer Siebren.

"Though I think you floating through the city might be a little much for everyone." His smile is a little brighter, teasing. Undoubtedly if and when this happened if Siebren still had issues properly using his legs they could always go out with him in a wheelchair.

"I'd...like that...very much."

He would. He would like to spend time with Harold doing....something that didn't relate to his care...so it would feel real again, what they have between them. He shrugged at Harold's assessment.

"Yes, well...I do believe it would...startle a few people. You are right of course."

Yes...that was it.

There was that wonderful, good natured tease Harold had.

Siebren sighed before pressing a soft, chaste kiss onto Harold's forehead.

"Thank You. I...I think it helps me...knowing where I am. It is the first time in years I...actually understand where I am."

He felt bad about so much, about all of their interactions being related to Siebren's condition made it feel so. Impersonal. There was this disconnect even if he didn't just treat him like just any other patient. He knew it would be a while yet before Talon would let him go outside, especially before they could control Siebren, so Harold would have to improvise something else.

Perhaps a movie and Italian could be managed in Siebren's room. He could download something on his pad and bring food, it wouldn't be the most romantic, but it'd be more than Siebren's had in years.

"Sometimes I'm right." Harold says, eyes closing for a second as Siebren kisses him again.

"... what else can I help with, Sieb? You understand I can't tell you everything yet, right? But I'll answer what I can." He means he can't really disclose much when it comes to Siebren's accident and what fully went down in the ten years after, not yet. In his heart he means he can't tell him about Talon and what they wanted him for.

That they didn't help Siebren out of the kindness of their hearts. He's an asset to them. They both are.

For whatisthatmelody | Talon AU

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