Following Orders

For once, Oded truly did not know what he would find as the guard opened the door for him. In the heartbeat before he entered the room he prayed, and this time he could not say for what that it was he prayed. But a small measure of calm descended on him and he took the step forward, acknowledging the guard and waiting for the door to be closed behind him. He almost could not look, too certain that he would be confronted with the images that had haunted his night, of Sayid stretched on the stone floor before him, cold and stiff, eyes glassy and unseeing. Over and over he had woken, cheeks damp, to find that he had clutched his pillow to his chest with hands that trembled. An hour of staring at the blank walls had allowed him to fall back into a restless slumber, and then the dreams would appear again. The thought would not leave his mind that because Sayid was being kept in isolation, no-one would have entered the room to check on him since Oded’s last visit. Anything could have happened since then, and the endless, horrific possibilities had danced through his mind as he had walked into the compound, down the long corridor, towards the cell. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and raised his eyes to the room.

Sayid was sat up against the wall, eyes fixed on Oded. He had wrapped himself in the jacket Oded had left for him, even though it was crumpled from being used as a pillow and a few sizes too large, had hung it unbuttoned over his shoulders, obviously unable to manage the sleeves. Oded couldn’t understand, wasn’t ready to believe his eyes. His steps were slow and measured as he crossed the room, waiting for the moment when this apparition of hope, this miracle, would vanish and the grim reality would reappear. He knelt down, emptied his hands, and reached out tentatively to cup Sayid’s cheek. The other man tilted his head, leaning into the touch, looking up questioningly at Oded. His eyes were a little dazed, his skin still too-warm, flushed, but he breathed slow and steady as he gestured urgently towards the water.

“Please.” he asked, letting his head fall back against the wall, exhausted by the effort of reaching for what he so desperately needed. Oded nodded.

“You need to cool down.” he insisted, hands resting on Sayid’s shoulders. He slipped the jacket down, folding it and placing it on the floor next to them. Sayid’s eyes flickered down, resting on it for a moment, and for that moment it appeared he would say something, but he shook his head, stopped himself, and glanced back up at Oded. The other man took his now-familiar position sitting behind Sayid, one arm wrapping easily over his shoulders, the other hand on the back of his neck, comfortable in a way he did not expect but was strangely grateful for. Once again it worried him greatly how easy to move the prisoner was becoming. Sayid was smaller than him, slighter, but he should still not have been so light. The lack of food, lack of exercise, were taking their toll on his body, and Oded resolved to do whatever he could about both of those things. The skin pressed against him was warmer than it should be, but no longer unpleasant to touch as Sayid half-collapsed back onto him, head lolling.

“You came back.” Sayid spoke quietly, almost to himself, but Oded nodded. It pained him that Sayid had thought he would not, but he refused to let his reaction show, busying himself with pouring the drink.

“I said I would.” he replied, picking up the cup, letting the cool water flow between Sayid’s parched lips, ever careful to let him breathe, never give too much too quickly. As had happened yesterday he had to stop him, taking the cup away before Sayid felt he had had his fill. “Food, now?” he asked, holding his breath as Sayid didn’t answer. Perhaps that truly had been the key yesterday, forcing him to eat despite his protests, forcing his body to take what it so badly needed. Perhaps if the same could not be achieved again today, he still might loose Sayid. He must manage this, whatever it took. He must. A weak laugh broke through his thoughts as Sayid turned his head, looking up at him.
“If I say no, will you be very angry?” he asked, almost playfully despite the low rasp in his throat. Oded was startled, and a smile had formed on his lips before he realised it.

“Livid, my friend.” he answered, picking up the bowl and bread, bringing them closer.

“Then I should say yes.” Sayid replied solemnly, a hint of mischief still sparkling in his eyes. It amazed Oded to see what the man was like when his defences were down, diminished by sickness and need, the so-carefully constructed barriers finally abandoned as useless. Neither of them were innocents, not by many years and far too many acts, but there was something to Sayid…Oded wanted to call it purity, but that could not be the right word, not with his history. There was honour there holding together the last shreds of pride, and it was most likely that, Oded told himself, which resonated so deeply with him, as though he had seen himself through a darkened mirror.

Within moments Oded realised that Sayid truly had been joking about refusing the food. He took all that was offered to him, eating greedily in a way Oded had never seen him do before. The tiny spark of hope deep inside Oded grew into a flame, burned brightly as the bowl was emptied and Sayid relaxed back.

Oded wrapped a hand around Sayid’s wrist, eyes fixed on his watch as he took the prisoner’s pulse. That too had fallen to near-normal, well within the range of safety. He knew he should let go once he was done, that there was no reason for his fingers to remain wrapped around the lean wrist, fingertips lightly stroking the skin.

“Am I to assume I am your first visitor today?” he asked, lowering his voice as he realised that he had not yet shut the grille on the door. It did not matter, his lips were close enough to the other man’s ear that the whispered words reached him, and the Iraqi nodded. “Good.” Sayid nodded again, moving his arm, as though trying to pull it out of Oded’s grasp. Oded let his hand fall away, a vague sense of disappointment that he did not quite manage to name spreading through him. Sayid shook his head, moved his wrist back to rest against Oded’s hand until the long fingers closed over it. Then he moved his arm back towards himself, pulling Oded’s with it. Their arms now both rested across Sayid’s stomach, and Oded finally understood. He brought his other arm up to join it, and Sayid laid his arm on top of that, careful not to allow the fingers of that hand to touch anything. “I will bring you something more tomorrow, fruit or such.” he promised suddenly, surprising both of them. Sayid licked his lips, almost involuntarily, but his eyes darkened.

“Do not get yourself into trouble for me Oded. Do not risk yourself.” he replied, suddenly more wary than he had seemed before, going stiff in Oded’s arms. Oded could find no words of answer, and he shook his head.

“It is no risk.” he lied. He was certain he could explain it all to his superiors, claim that he was proving to the prisoner that he was trustworthy, offering him things in return for the information they sought. But it would raise questions, awkward ones, ones he was not certain that he was able to answer, let alone willing to. Sayid shifted, head tilting, and the look on his face said he knew Oded was not telling the truth. He sighed deeply.

“Why do you still come here Oded?” he asked quietly, gaze fixed on Oded’s face, leaving no room to hide. “What do you hope to gain?” Oded tried to look away, couldn’t, the bare honesty between them so fragile that to breathe would be to break it. Sayid raised his left hand, the fingers now almost completely uncurled, almost-healed, and brushed his fingertips down Oded’s face, tracing the prominent cheekbone. “What path brought you to this room, my friend?” It was too much, far, far too much, and Oded closed his eyes, letting the lashes fall over them, hiding them suddenly from sight as shadows tainted their soft darkness.

“You told me that you did not protest your recruitment because you had a sister to save. Well, I have a brother, a little younger than I.” he said simply. When he looked down again Sayid was watching him, still touching him, and he wet his lips before he continued, buying time as he tried to determine the best way to explain. “There was…the Mossad, they were looking for people with…certain skills, particular abilities that they felt would be useful. Elian and myself both tested well, both showed promising scores, although I more so than him. But Eli has always been…” he sighed, looking off into the distance “he would not have survived a life such as this. So I took what seemed to be the only course of action that was possible, did the only thing that I thought could save him. I negotiated with the Institute. My compliance, my absolute loyalty to them, my sworn service, in exchange for his freedom, their solemn promise that he would never again be approached by the Mossad. And they took it.” a faint smile drifted to his lips. “Eli has a good business now, selling fine food to the rich. A loving wife also, a strong healthy son, and another on the way, I’m told.” the last few words faded into silence. He had seen pictures, had received letters. But that was the most contact he had been allowed. That had been the least…negotiable part of his contract, that he no longer see the only person he could call family. But it was worth it, to know he was safe, happy, and free. Almost as though reading his mind, Sayid looked up.

“Was it worth it? Was this…worth the price they took from you in exchange?” Oded had a sudden picture in his mind of Sayid waving goodbye to a young woman, her hair covered and tears running down her face, and he knew beyond all doubt that this was Sayid’s sister, the one he had talked so fondly of, and that the image was one Sayid was thinking of right now. He allowed the arm that lay around Sayid’s waist to tighten a little, and Sayid’s hand finally dropped from his cheek.

“I have always believed it to be so, my friend. I have always believed to be it so.” Oded replied, and Sayid gave him another questioning look. There was silence between them for a moment, and Sayid leant his head back against Oded’s shoulder.

“Yet now you sound unsure.” he stated softly. Yet another question that was not a question, yet another which Oded could not answer. When had he become unsure? The distaste he felt for his…work, the work of those around him, had been growing for some time, he knew that much. But when had it crystallised into something this solid, this certain, that he was willing to share such things with a near stranger? He shook his head at himself. Whatever Sayid was, whatever he had become, the prisoner was far from being a stranger to him. He searched desperately for something to say in response, gaze sweeping across the floor as though the rough stone would give him the words. His eyes lighted on the cup, and he seized on it as a diversion.

“Do you wish to drink some more?” he asked, filling the vessel once more. Sayid twisted around to look up at him, now sitting almost sideways across his lap, and gave a wry smile. I know your tricks, the look seemed to say, I know what you are doing. But he nodded, reached up his hand towards the cup.

“Will you allow me to try?” he asked quietly, jaw set in determination. Oded brought the cup closer and Sayid wrapped his hand awkwardly around it, the fingers not quite-closing over the smooth metal. The cup began to slip from his grasp and Oded caught it quickly, fingers of his right hand lacing together with Sayid’s left over the now-warm metal. Sayid did not let go as the cup was raised to his lips, and he smiled at Oded. “Thank you.”

“It is nothing, my friend.” he replied. He knew Sayid was not talking about the water. But to speak aloud of what they really meant, to allow those words to pass between them…it would be foolish, at best. It saddened him a little, and as Sayid’s eyes met his, they were suddenly clear, all defences lowered. Slowly he put the cup down, his hand that cradled the back of Sayid‘s head relaxing, fingers tangling gently in the hair, smoothing across the skin. Sayid’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost holding his breath as he looked up at the other man, his good hand resting lightly on Oded’s shoulder. The hand tightened as Oded’s lips brushed lightly over his, the first touch so faint it was barely there at all, and Sayid tilted his face up, removing all trace of a gap between them. When Oded pulled back his eyes were wide, almost frightened, and he stared down at Sayid in disbelief, glanced down at the hand on his shoulder as though unsure from where it came, or how it came to be there.

“I am sorry.” he said quietly, and Sayid lowered his eyes briefly, then looked back up resolutely.

“I am not.” he leant up once more, arm braced against Oded’s chest to steady himself, and Oded’s lips parted under his in surprise. Then Oded’s tongue found the line on Sayid’s lower lip where it had been split again and again, and traced over it, soothing, before it was greeted with Sayid’s, inviting. The hand on Oded’s shoulder moved around to the back of his neck, and for a brief, absurd moment Oded regretted having had his hair cut so short, wondered what it would have felt like for Sayid’s fingers to tangle in the shoulder-length waves he was used to. But this was not the moment to think, to wonder, to question, and he wrapped his arm again around Sayid’s waist, dragging him closer.

It had to end eventually, the real world rise up to claim them once more, and it was the sound of soldiers marching past the barred window high above them that finally jolted them apart.

“I must…” Oded began, and Sayid cut him off with a nod.

“Go, yes?” he asked, a smile curving his lips. “But you will be back tomorrow.” It was not a question, was not just a repetition of what Oded usually promised. Sayid allowed himself to be sat back against the wall, watching as Oded stood. His hand rested on the jacket beside him, fingers almost absently caressing the material while Oded instructed the guard to let him out.

Today, when he looked back, dark eyes met his own. And smiled.