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Title: Black Edelweiss
Series: Zeitgeist
Follows: One Giant Leap
Wordcount: 995
Summary: Two weeks after Claire Bennet's televised leap from the Ferris wheel, the 12th handles it's first case delving into the strange world of specials. Evidence points the investigation toward a former Company Agent, a man Noah Bennet would swear up and down doesn't exist.
Details: Minimal details due to inflation. Full warnings and details in main post.
PREV: Interlude 15 // MAIN // NEXT: Interlude 17
Konrad & Haram—Odessa, Texas; 1986
They had tried for almost a year before they had been forced to concede that it was hopeless. It was impractical to spend every waking moment together just so that Haram could remember him, and in practice it was actually impossible. They might manage to keep it running for as long as a day or two, at most, but sooner or later something happened to interrupt it, and whenever it did those memories unraveled themselves completely.
Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.
Yet, as much as it had hurt to admit, Konrad wished later on that they hadn't tried to hold on so tightly. That they had simply agreed to focus on other things—Haram on learning to work with a new partner, and Konrad on learning how to function within the constraints the Ghost's ability had imposed on him. Neither task had been easy, after all, and maybe if they hadn't tried so hard, if they hadn't tried to push themselves—
It was useless to speculate on the past, though. Especially when only one of them remembered it.
Still, if they hadn't been so stubbornly committed to making things work, Konrad thought he might have been spared...this.
"Please, hayati..."
"...only for tonight..."
If anyone had suggested forty years ago, before his escape, that anything could possibly be worse than the agony he had already endured, Konrad would have been hard pressed to believe them. If they had suggested nearly thirty years ago, after his life with Sarah and his sons had so painfully ended, that anyone could ever hurt him worse than that he would have laughed bitterly at the thought, still doubting. If asked now, though, Konrad thought he might believe just about anything...
Because he was coming to learn that there was no upper limit to how much a pain a person might feel.
Konrad knew what it felt like to have his heart torn out of him—literally, repeatedly. He knew what it felt like to be gutted figuratively, emotionally—to have everything torn away from him, leaving him hollow and empty. Neither of those feelings were something Konrad ever wanted to relive, but to say that he was reliving both of them now might have done an excellent job of expressing his present feelings.
Though, at the same time, it would be paying a great disservice to the unique pain this new torture inflicted on him.
"...just this once, nuur eni..."
As it had been with with Sarah and the boys, the pain of his loss cut deeper than any physical wound he had ever had—and physical pain was something about which he knew a great deal. Yet, like his torture at the hands of the scientists at Auschwitz, the real horror wasn't in the pain itself. It was in the dread and the powerlessness. It was waiting for that pain to return, knowing with certainty that it would—
And knowing just as certainly that he had no means to escape.
Haram hated being forced to accept defeat. Haram would never accept their ending unless he felt he had done all he could to prevent it, and he would never be satisfied that he had unless he addressed the matter with Konrad face to face. But it didn't matter how many times they discussed it—rationally, angrily, bitterly, or in tears. It didn't matter how many long letters or recorded messages Konrad left pleading with him to stop trying. It would never matter.
What Haram needed to finally have the closure he deserved was the one thing Konrad couldn't give him.
Haram could normally accept that things were over, at first, leaving saddened and resigned, but he would forget it in less than a day. How much time then passed usually depended on the circumstances. If Haram had some kind of proof untouched by the ability—a letter, or a voice message, or a video, something permanent that he could touch and relive, and remember—then the time was usually longer. Once, feeling more desperate than usual, Konrad had moved apartments and changed his numbers, and that too had increased the amount of time before Haram approached him again. But, sooner or later, Haram's doubts always got the best of him, and Konrad found himself confronted with the sight of his lover standing on his doorstep once again.
"...love you, umri..."
"...miss you..."
"...only for tonight..."
And perhaps that—perhaps just that—might still have been bearable, but no matter how many times Haram broke his heart, Konrad never had the strength to turn him away.
At the time of his encounter with the Ghost Konrad had possessed few friends inside the Company, and even fewer without. With no way to explain what had happened, those latter had effectively been lost completely. And, if nothing changed, it would be next to impossible to forge any new connections. Given how long Konrad might expect to live, that thought was terrifying. Trapped within a hellish Limbo of obscurity and isolation, Konrad didn't have much at all left to him.
He could seek out a warm body for a one night stand, but the encounter would be one-sided and entirely meaningless, and the thought of leaving a stranger to contemplate that distressing blank spot in their memory was disturbing to him in the extreme. At least with Haram the words whispered in his ear meant something. Haram's hands knew Konrad's body and how he liked to be touched, and his lips were as familiar with the taste of Konrad's skin as Konrad's were with his. And for the few minutes or hours in which they were together, Konrad could almost forget what had happened to him...
Just for a few moments, Konrad could remember what it felt like to really exist.
"...ana behebbak..."
It never lasted long. The memories faded quickly after, and any conversation that followed was often laced with bitterness, resentment and regret. And then Haram would leave, forgetting even that much. But Konrad was never afforded that mercy. He would remember. He would remember every moment between then and now and wonder—dreading, hoping—how long he had before it happened again.
"...the last time, habibi..."
"...I promise."
PREV: Interlude 15 // MAIN // NEXT: Interlude 17
Translations:
hayati – "my life"
umri – "my life/my everything"
nuur eni – "light of my eyes"
ana behebbak – "I love you"
habibi – "beloved"
Series: Zeitgeist
Follows: One Giant Leap
Wordcount: 995
Summary: Two weeks after Claire Bennet's televised leap from the Ferris wheel, the 12th handles it's first case delving into the strange world of specials. Evidence points the investigation toward a former Company Agent, a man Noah Bennet would swear up and down doesn't exist.
Details: Minimal details due to inflation. Full warnings and details in main post.
PREV: Interlude 15 // MAIN // NEXT: Interlude 17
Konrad & Haram—Odessa, Texas; 1986
They had tried for almost a year before they had been forced to concede that it was hopeless. It was impractical to spend every waking moment together just so that Haram could remember him, and in practice it was actually impossible. They might manage to keep it running for as long as a day or two, at most, but sooner or later something happened to interrupt it, and whenever it did those memories unraveled themselves completely.
Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.
Yet, as much as it had hurt to admit, Konrad wished later on that they hadn't tried to hold on so tightly. That they had simply agreed to focus on other things—Haram on learning to work with a new partner, and Konrad on learning how to function within the constraints the Ghost's ability had imposed on him. Neither task had been easy, after all, and maybe if they hadn't tried so hard, if they hadn't tried to push themselves—
It was useless to speculate on the past, though. Especially when only one of them remembered it.
Still, if they hadn't been so stubbornly committed to making things work, Konrad thought he might have been spared...this.
"Please, hayati..."
"...only for tonight..."
If anyone had suggested forty years ago, before his escape, that anything could possibly be worse than the agony he had already endured, Konrad would have been hard pressed to believe them. If they had suggested nearly thirty years ago, after his life with Sarah and his sons had so painfully ended, that anyone could ever hurt him worse than that he would have laughed bitterly at the thought, still doubting. If asked now, though, Konrad thought he might believe just about anything...
Because he was coming to learn that there was no upper limit to how much a pain a person might feel.
Konrad knew what it felt like to have his heart torn out of him—literally, repeatedly. He knew what it felt like to be gutted figuratively, emotionally—to have everything torn away from him, leaving him hollow and empty. Neither of those feelings were something Konrad ever wanted to relive, but to say that he was reliving both of them now might have done an excellent job of expressing his present feelings.
Though, at the same time, it would be paying a great disservice to the unique pain this new torture inflicted on him.
"...just this once, nuur eni..."
As it had been with with Sarah and the boys, the pain of his loss cut deeper than any physical wound he had ever had—and physical pain was something about which he knew a great deal. Yet, like his torture at the hands of the scientists at Auschwitz, the real horror wasn't in the pain itself. It was in the dread and the powerlessness. It was waiting for that pain to return, knowing with certainty that it would—
And knowing just as certainly that he had no means to escape.
Haram hated being forced to accept defeat. Haram would never accept their ending unless he felt he had done all he could to prevent it, and he would never be satisfied that he had unless he addressed the matter with Konrad face to face. But it didn't matter how many times they discussed it—rationally, angrily, bitterly, or in tears. It didn't matter how many long letters or recorded messages Konrad left pleading with him to stop trying. It would never matter.
What Haram needed to finally have the closure he deserved was the one thing Konrad couldn't give him.
Haram could normally accept that things were over, at first, leaving saddened and resigned, but he would forget it in less than a day. How much time then passed usually depended on the circumstances. If Haram had some kind of proof untouched by the ability—a letter, or a voice message, or a video, something permanent that he could touch and relive, and remember—then the time was usually longer. Once, feeling more desperate than usual, Konrad had moved apartments and changed his numbers, and that too had increased the amount of time before Haram approached him again. But, sooner or later, Haram's doubts always got the best of him, and Konrad found himself confronted with the sight of his lover standing on his doorstep once again.
"...love you, umri..."
"...miss you..."
"...only for tonight..."
And perhaps that—perhaps just that—might still have been bearable, but no matter how many times Haram broke his heart, Konrad never had the strength to turn him away.
At the time of his encounter with the Ghost Konrad had possessed few friends inside the Company, and even fewer without. With no way to explain what had happened, those latter had effectively been lost completely. And, if nothing changed, it would be next to impossible to forge any new connections. Given how long Konrad might expect to live, that thought was terrifying. Trapped within a hellish Limbo of obscurity and isolation, Konrad didn't have much at all left to him.
He could seek out a warm body for a one night stand, but the encounter would be one-sided and entirely meaningless, and the thought of leaving a stranger to contemplate that distressing blank spot in their memory was disturbing to him in the extreme. At least with Haram the words whispered in his ear meant something. Haram's hands knew Konrad's body and how he liked to be touched, and his lips were as familiar with the taste of Konrad's skin as Konrad's were with his. And for the few minutes or hours in which they were together, Konrad could almost forget what had happened to him...
Just for a few moments, Konrad could remember what it felt like to really exist.
"...ana behebbak..."
It never lasted long. The memories faded quickly after, and any conversation that followed was often laced with bitterness, resentment and regret. And then Haram would leave, forgetting even that much. But Konrad was never afforded that mercy. He would remember. He would remember every moment between then and now and wonder—dreading, hoping—how long he had before it happened again.
"...the last time, habibi..."
"...I promise."
PREV: Interlude 15 // MAIN // NEXT: Interlude 17
Translations:
hayati – "my life"
umri – "my life/my everything"
nuur eni – "light of my eyes"
ana behebbak – "I love you"
habibi – "beloved"
