Following Orders

His night had been haunted again, this time by far more pleasant spectres than the evening before, ones that brought a small smile to his lips even as he greeted the guard, waited for the door to be opened, waited for the guard to stand back and grant him access, as though this man had the authority to permit or deny him anything.

Once again Sayid was sat with his back against the wall, knees drawn up, arms crossed on top of them. He seemed to be asleep, his head lolling to one side. Oded stalked across the room, his footsteps somehow silent even on the concrete, and for one brief moment his mind raced with worry as Sayid did not respond, but the steady rise and fall of the slender chest reassured him that the prisoner was only sleeping, had not once more succumbed to that fearful sickness, and he sat down cross-legged in front of the other man as quietly as he could, which was practically silent. As he set down the food and drink, and something wrapped in paper he pulled from his pocket, he noticed something clutched in Sayid’s arms. He could not be certain, for only a little of it was showing, but it appeared to be dark material. The thought pleased him more than he had expected and he smiled, settling himself down to wait.

He did not have to wait long, Sayid blinking slowly after only a few more minutes. He went stiff, eyes darting around as he realised he was not alone, then relaxed as he saw it was Oded.

“Good dream?” Oded asked softly, and he could have sworn that Sayid blushed, colour rising quickly to his cheeks as he stretched. The jacket fell from his now open arms, draping itself over his knees, and he looked a little embarrassed, meeting Oded’s eyes warily as though checking to see what his reaction would be. Oded simply allowed his smile to broaden, as Sayid finally remembered there had been a question and nodded slowly, dropping his gaze. Then he raised his eyebrows, tipping his head towards the grille, and Oded cursed himself for a thousand kinds of fool. Yet again he had forgotten to close it in his haste to speak to Sayid. Such a mistake was beyond imprudent, it was dangerous, and he could not understand how he had made it twice in a row. Then as he turned, moved back to the other side of the room and sat down, as Sayid smiled up at him, suddenly he understood it perfectly. “How do you feel today?” he asked, as much to distract himself from that train of thought as true concern. It was obvious Sayid was much better, his eyes clear, and - Oded reached out to press a hand to his forehead - yes, the skin felt warm but no longer worryingly so. Whereas those thoughts…they worried him, more than a little, his attachment to this man having crept up on him, more silent than even he could be, and wrapped itself around him while he had been wrestling with his conscience. So he tried to clear his mind of that, instead waiting for Sayid’s answer.

“Good, better at least.” he replied, stretching out his arms again, arching his back as he did so. His hair fell in his face, and while a quick toss of his head threw most of it back over his shoulders, out of the way, a single dark curled lock remained stubbornly over his right eye. He gave a small half shrug, reaching up to try and push it awkwardly away. But Oded was quicker, pressing it behind his ear, fingers lingering on the soft skin there. To do it Oded had been required to stretch forward, and he found himself balanced on his knees, leaning over Sayid, looking down at the other man, one hand pressed against the wall to support himself, the other still tangled in Sayid’s hair. The prisoner stared up at him, eyes wide, lips parted, and for one breathless moment Oded thought to crush his own against them, press his body to the other man’s, sear his flesh with the heat that burned between them. The image was so vivid, so startling that he sank back onto his heels, head bowed. Sayid reached out a hand, then let it fall back to his side, confusion tainting his features. Oded felt a sharp pang of regret for the pain he saw dwelling in those dark eyes, but he hardened his heart against it. He could not demand such things of this man, could not take what was given under such conditions. He had never seen this himself, but had heard of it. An extension of the usual process where the prisoner found themselves befriended by a captor, in this case they believed themselves…attracted…to their tormentor. It was believed to be a survival mechanism, a way for a broken mind to continue on, save itself. And he would not, could not, take advantage of that fact, no matter what he craved. He ignored the small voice that told him Sayid was far from a broken man, that at this moment the prisoner may well be stronger than he, and let his hands drop to his knees.

“What troubles you, Oded?” Sayid asked, his voice mild as he watched Oded busy himself with pouring the drink. Oded shifted, avoiding meeting Sayid’s intense gaze. When he looked back up, Sayid was still watching him. He held out the cup.

“Do you wish to try it yourself again?” he questioned, ignoring Sayid’s inquiry. The reply startled him, and he finally met the prisoner’s gaze.

“Are you so eager not to touch me again?” The words were soft, should have been taunting but somehow were not, and Oded put the cup back on the floor, not sure he could trust his hands not to shake.

“Sayid…” he said, then flinched as he realised it was the first time in days he had used the prisoner’s name. It was hard to trust his own judgement now. Had that truly been to spare Sayid’s pain, to show him that Oded was not like the others? Or had it simply been to allow Oded to pretend that Sayid was his friend, was not yet another assignment? Not simply yet another man who would die in his arms, yet another name that would be scrawled on a sheet of paper as having been “released”? They still haunted his thoughts, his nights, his prayers, each of those names, those faces, the stories they told him. Could he have done more, should he, if he had tried harder could he have saved them? It had troubled him, for a long time before now, yet until this moment, until this man, it had never seemed so real. But Sayid only tilted his head at the use of his name, simply looked up at Oded in confusion. “What has changed, since the sun set yesterday, Oded? Have you finally laid aside the pretence, my friend?” he laid a bitter stress on the final two words, enough pain that Oded felt his muscles twitch with the urge to reach out towards the other man.

“This is not real.” he said in a near-whisper. Sayid frowned.
“I do not understand.”

“You do not wish me to touch you. It is…you have been alone too long, harmed too much. You are reaching out for someone.” an ironic smile twisted his lips. “It is the principle on which my job works, the assumption that you will do so. It just does not normally work to such extremes.” he lapsed into silence, looking down at his feet. A hand reached out, the twisted fingers resting lightly on his knee.

“You know me so well then, that you know my mind in such a way? Have you some access to my inner thoughts that you have not yet revealed?” Oded felt his breath catch in his throat. The words had been casual, forced to be so, but there was still an undercurrent of pain to them, lacing them with bitterness. The hand on his knee didn’t move.

“I…” He tried to speak, but the words were simply not there. For there to be words, there must be thoughts, and he wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, let alone how to explain it. “I am your enemy, Sayid, how can you desire my company?” he asked, ordering his voice to remain steady. Unlike the soldiers that he so easily commanded, it did not obey, and he saw a shadow pass thought the other man’s eyes at the hitch. The hand tightened slightly, the light squeeze all it could manage.

“As you are mine. Should I ask you the same thing? But perhaps you do not. Perhaps you are only doing your job, and this is all a ruse to pull forth yet more answers?” Oded looked up sharply, and he saw the sadness on Sayid’s face.

He could not do this. Could not sit here and lie, could not sit here for a moment longer and pretend that he was just following orders. Whether it damned his soul or saved him, he could not do this. He wrapped his hand around Sayid’s, gently tangling their fingers together, mindful of the injuries, and closed his eyes.

“Forgive me, my friend. Though I do not deserve it, forgive me.” he whispered, and the hand moved in his.

“For what, Oded? For showing the fear that I carry so deep inside? There is nothing between us to forgive.” he insisted, looking down at their joined hands.

“May I…” Oded gestured towards Sayid, towards the wall, and the prisoner chuckled.

“You do not usually ask permission. Of course.” Oded coloured at the uncomfortable truth of his actions, then shifted so he sat with his back pressed to the wall, Sayid leant back against his chest. He picked up the cup.

“Do you wish to try for yourself today?” he asked once more, holding it up so Sayid could reach. The other man closed his hand around it, the grip a little firmer than he had managed the day before, but it still wobbled, and Oded quickly wrapped his hand over Sayid’s, helping him. No, he told himself, if you cannot speak the truth in your own mind, where could you? Sayid could have managed alone. It would have been difficult, awkward, but he would have managed without true problem. Not all the support was physical, not now.

“Thank you.” Sayid said once he had finished. He turned his head as Oded put down the cup, his hair brushing against the other man’s neck, and he raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to be sorry again?” he asked, a faint smile on his lips, and Oded frowned in confusion.

“I do not understand…” he began, cut off as Sayid kissed him, arm tightening around his waist. This time he allowed himself to sink into the kiss, pushing aside all thoughts except the warmth of the other man against him, the unexpected softness of his lips, quite the contrast to the rough beard tickling as his chin. There was a tiny gasp as Sayid shifted, took weight on some part of him still too tender, too bruised, but any question he could have asked, any expression of concern was forced away as Sayid plunged a questing tongue into his mouth, forceful but welcome.

“I think that perhaps, if you apologise, I may have to kill you.” Sayid warned him, resting back against Oded once more as Oded reached for the food. Sayid picked up the bread himself, managing to eat with the minimum of movement. Oded contented himself with keeping his arms around Sayid, feeling the other man’s head drop back against his shoulder once the last of the soup and bread were gone.

“I brought something else.” he said hesitantly, reaching for the paper bag. Out of it he produced an orange, and Sayid smiled.

“You remembered.” he said, his eyes fixed on Oded rather than the fruit as Oded pulled a small knife from his pocket and began to quarter the orange. “Thank you.” Once more, the thanks were for much more than either of them were willing to acknowledge, and Oded simply inclined his head in response, laying three of the pieces on top of the bag. The fourth he held out delicately, balanced between forefinger and thumb, but instead of taking it Sayid simply leant forward, biting into it with an expression of near ecstasy on his face. His lips brushed against Oded’s finger, curving over the very tip, and Sayid glanced up. Then he closed his eyes as he ate, savouring the half-forgotten flavour. A little of the juice trickled down his lips and his tongue darted out, quickly capturing the last precious drops. Oded watched this with fascination, not looking away as Sayid opened his eyes, gaze burning into him. He picked up the next segment, held it to Sayid’s lips, then the next, then the next, and when there was no more he bent down and kissed him again, the bittersweet juice mingling with the taste that even after so few chances he was learning to recognise as being so purely Sayid.

Yet again they were disturbed by the sound of marching outside, and Sayid scowled.
“I begin to believe they do that on purpose.” he said, sounding quite petulant, and Oded had to bite back a laugh.

“I would believe it too, my friend.” He smiled, and brushed his hand over Sayid’s hair. Then his smile slipped as he caught sight of his watch. He had already lingered too long, not yet dangerously so but still longer than he should have. Sayid caught the look, sighed.

“I know.” he said simply, and pressed his lips once more to Oded’s in parting. Then Oded stood, made sure he was in order, hid the paper bag inside a deep pocket, and made his way to the door.

When he looked back today, Sayid was not watching him. Instead, he had pulled the jacket towards him once more, wrapping his arms around it. He looked up, caught Oded’s eye, and deliberately, oh-so-slowly, caressed the material, trailing his fingertips across the rough cloth. Oded shook his head, and it took every ounce of self control he possessed to push away his smile before the door opened.