Unstruck Music, (Challenge Fic, prompt by safenthecity)
Unstruck Music
Two didn’t care that the tears continued to stream down his face even after the last note of Felix’s song died away. He knew the Four and Eight to his right were looking at him strangely, but he didn’t care about that, either. People were supposed to cry at funerals. That was the point. Several humans had broken down during Felix's song, too. Granted, he knew that he was supposed to be mourning the thirty-three new police officers lost in the suicide bombing, but nobody would ever have to know. Except, maybe, Felix.
Felix left the stage and returned to his place beside Two. Felix glanced at him in concern, but he didn’t say anything.
Two was brimming so full of confused, strangled joy that he couldn’t even hear D’Anna speaking when she returned to the podium to give the benediction.
God had rewarded him. His brother Leoben, who had tried to wrench the music from the hands of God, who, upon finding a woman he thought might hear snatches of it, had locked her in a hole to make her say what he wanted to hear or drive her mad-Leoben had found only death, again and again. But Two, he had been good, and patient, and kind, and had made great sacrifices without complaint whenever his brothers and sisters asked him to, continuing with the lists long after he started feeling that no matter what he did, he was betraying someone he believed in. Now God had rewarded him, had brought him to a man who not only heard the great unstruck music but sang his own thread in the heavenly choir. The others would agree to stop the lists now, or at least to not wheedle any more of them out of Felix; that was a profanely unfit task for a chosen vessel of God.
Two didn’t even notice that the funeral was over until Felix spoke.
“Two?” Felix repeated. “You okay?” He asked it kindly, but in a way that made it clear that he really didn’t want to talk about it out there in the open if Two wasn’t.
Two nodded and wiped his face once more. They ambled home side by side. Two really wanted to take Felix’s hand, but his own hands were wet with tears and snot, since he hadn’t thought there was any need to bring a handkerchief. So, he shoved his hands in his coat pockets. Felix did the same.
“It doesn’t seem right, that the Cylons don’t have any hymns,” Felix said, trying too hard to make casual conversation. Two would have been content with companionable silence, but he tried to focus on Felix's words. “From what you’ve told me, it seems like you’ve got plenty of weird, colorful passages of scripture. That and a tune is really all you need for a hymn. Maybe you should try writing some, Two. Do you know anything about composition?”
“You hear it, don’t you?” Two blurted without thinking.
Felix stopped and looked around fearfully. “Hear what?”
“No, nothing here,” said Two. “The unstruck music. It’s within all of us, but…you can hear it, can’t you?
Felix sighed and started walking again. “Sure..." he mumbled in that tired, noncommittal tone he reserved for humoring Two's kindly attempts to convert him to the way of the One True God. "Uh, we’re all connected, the scriptures talk about humanity as a great orchestra, where we each have different parts to play…”
Two couldn't let him brush it aside this time. He grabbed Felix by the arm and bodily turned him around to face him. “Don’t frak with me, Felix. Do you hear it?”
Felix’s brow furrowed. He raised his hand to Two’s cheek to brush a tear away. He hadn't realized just how hungry he'd been for touch until he felt Felix's fingertips on his skin. Two instinctively took hold of Felix’s wrist to keep his hand there, to savor that contact as long as he could.
“I didn’t mean to. You do use metaphors a lot, you know,” Felix said cautiously, his fingers tensing a little against Two’s cheek. Two mentally cursed himself and let go. He had meant it to be a tender gesture, a copy of what he'd seen a woman do when a man brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. Where had he gone wrong? Maybe his grip had been too tight, or the motion itself too fast, or was there some quirk of human expression on her face that he hadn't mimicked correctly, something that would let Felix know what he meant? He’d worked so hard to be gentle, to overcome the bad reputation Thrace’s Leoben had thrust upon all the Twos, and now he feared he’d undone all of that for nothing.
To his surprise, though, Felix didn’t draw away instantly; he ran his thumb gently below Two’s eye before letting his hand drop to his side.
“Not literally, no,” Felix said. “Do you?”
Two could see from the look on Felix’s face that Felix thought he was talking about some strange Cylon programming or trigger. He knew they were going to get nowhere now.
“Just forget it,” Two murmered, smiling apologetically. They resumed walking.
Felix and Two had developed a quiet nightly routine that hadn't changed or been interrupted for weeks now, so when they got home that evening, Two was surprised when Felix slid up behind him and took the kettle of hot water for dishwashing from his hands.
“Dishes can wait ‘til tomorrow,” Felix said quietly, kissing Two’s neck just below his ear as he set the kettle aside.
Two turned around. He was afraid Felix must be sick. ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness’ was the only line of scripture Felix had ever memorized.
Felix gave a small grin and shook his head. “Yes, I can see what you’re thinking, and no, I have not lost my mind. They can wait.” He placed his hands on Two’s chest and then slid them up under his coat, pushing it off his shoulders. “I think we both need this.”
Two’s mind flashed with deep, bright memories as he and Felix helped each other undress and settled onto the cot. He didn’t think Felix would understand that part of the Cylon psyche, how intense emotion and concentration on physical sensations involuntarily dredged up old memories of other strong feelings-not necessarily memories of sex; in fact, those emerged quite rarely-through projection. Many-most-the best were of Felix, but he would have been lying if he had said Felix was the only person he saw in those flashes of clarity. It didn’t mean Two was any less there in the moment with him, but it wasn’t something he could explain without hurting or frightening Felix. So, Two stayed silent about what he saw.
Now that he was with Felix, Two was remembering things he hadn’t known he’d forgotten. He thought they might be residual memories from being programmed as a sleeper at one time, but for some reason, he suspected some of these things had actually happened.
A man named Daniel sat beside him on a piano bench. He lifted the fallboard, revealing a long, straight row of black and white keys.
“You want to hear a miracle, Ben? I’ll give you a miracle.” He winked, then walked his fingers gracefully up the keyboard, note by note. “Each note is unique. Each key vibrates a string of a different length, and each string produces a different frequency of vibration, a different sound. But…” He paused so he could finish his stroll up the keys, reaching across Two to get at the last few notes. “But, if you play an octave…” Daniel took Two’s hand in his and directed him to press and hold a particular key; Daniel did the same to another key farther down. Daniel grinned at the flash of surprise on Two’s face.
“It’s one note,” Two whispered.
“No. It’s two keys, see?” The sound was fading, so Daniel lifted Two’s hand and placed it on the key again, doing the same with his own hand. “But the effect is universal, a law of nature, hardwired into us-and not just us, but everyone, humans, Centurions, the Progenitors, everyone-so that two sounds meld into one. So what you are hearing, my friend,” they pressed the keys down in unison once more, “is the voice of God.”
That was what this was like, Two thought as Felix moved inside him, hips rocking in a smooth, slow rhythm, building steadily to a crescendo until Two came and Felix followed just after. But best of all, that feeling didn’t dissipate. It was still there as they lay beside each other on the cot, Felix curling into Two as he drifted off to sleep. It would be there in the morning when they dressed for work and had breakfast, Felix grumbling about the food stuck on the dirty dishes from the day before.
Yes, he heard the music, Two thought to himself. If Felix didn’t yet, he would. Two prayed to God he would.
Two didn’t care that the tears continued to stream down his face even after the last note of Felix’s song died away. He knew the Four and Eight to his right were looking at him strangely, but he didn’t care about that, either. People were supposed to cry at funerals. That was the point. Several humans had broken down during Felix's song, too. Granted, he knew that he was supposed to be mourning the thirty-three new police officers lost in the suicide bombing, but nobody would ever have to know. Except, maybe, Felix.
Felix left the stage and returned to his place beside Two. Felix glanced at him in concern, but he didn’t say anything.
Two was brimming so full of confused, strangled joy that he couldn’t even hear D’Anna speaking when she returned to the podium to give the benediction.
God had rewarded him. His brother Leoben, who had tried to wrench the music from the hands of God, who, upon finding a woman he thought might hear snatches of it, had locked her in a hole to make her say what he wanted to hear or drive her mad-Leoben had found only death, again and again. But Two, he had been good, and patient, and kind, and had made great sacrifices without complaint whenever his brothers and sisters asked him to, continuing with the lists long after he started feeling that no matter what he did, he was betraying someone he believed in. Now God had rewarded him, had brought him to a man who not only heard the great unstruck music but sang his own thread in the heavenly choir. The others would agree to stop the lists now, or at least to not wheedle any more of them out of Felix; that was a profanely unfit task for a chosen vessel of God.
Two didn’t even notice that the funeral was over until Felix spoke.
“Two?” Felix repeated. “You okay?” He asked it kindly, but in a way that made it clear that he really didn’t want to talk about it out there in the open if Two wasn’t.
Two nodded and wiped his face once more. They ambled home side by side. Two really wanted to take Felix’s hand, but his own hands were wet with tears and snot, since he hadn’t thought there was any need to bring a handkerchief. So, he shoved his hands in his coat pockets. Felix did the same.
“It doesn’t seem right, that the Cylons don’t have any hymns,” Felix said, trying too hard to make casual conversation. Two would have been content with companionable silence, but he tried to focus on Felix's words. “From what you’ve told me, it seems like you’ve got plenty of weird, colorful passages of scripture. That and a tune is really all you need for a hymn. Maybe you should try writing some, Two. Do you know anything about composition?”
“You hear it, don’t you?” Two blurted without thinking.
Felix stopped and looked around fearfully. “Hear what?”
“No, nothing here,” said Two. “The unstruck music. It’s within all of us, but…you can hear it, can’t you?
Felix sighed and started walking again. “Sure..." he mumbled in that tired, noncommittal tone he reserved for humoring Two's kindly attempts to convert him to the way of the One True God. "Uh, we’re all connected, the scriptures talk about humanity as a great orchestra, where we each have different parts to play…”
Two couldn't let him brush it aside this time. He grabbed Felix by the arm and bodily turned him around to face him. “Don’t frak with me, Felix. Do you hear it?”
Felix’s brow furrowed. He raised his hand to Two’s cheek to brush a tear away. He hadn't realized just how hungry he'd been for touch until he felt Felix's fingertips on his skin. Two instinctively took hold of Felix’s wrist to keep his hand there, to savor that contact as long as he could.
“I didn’t mean to. You do use metaphors a lot, you know,” Felix said cautiously, his fingers tensing a little against Two’s cheek. Two mentally cursed himself and let go. He had meant it to be a tender gesture, a copy of what he'd seen a woman do when a man brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. Where had he gone wrong? Maybe his grip had been too tight, or the motion itself too fast, or was there some quirk of human expression on her face that he hadn't mimicked correctly, something that would let Felix know what he meant? He’d worked so hard to be gentle, to overcome the bad reputation Thrace’s Leoben had thrust upon all the Twos, and now he feared he’d undone all of that for nothing.
To his surprise, though, Felix didn’t draw away instantly; he ran his thumb gently below Two’s eye before letting his hand drop to his side.
“Not literally, no,” Felix said. “Do you?”
Two could see from the look on Felix’s face that Felix thought he was talking about some strange Cylon programming or trigger. He knew they were going to get nowhere now.
“Just forget it,” Two murmered, smiling apologetically. They resumed walking.
Felix and Two had developed a quiet nightly routine that hadn't changed or been interrupted for weeks now, so when they got home that evening, Two was surprised when Felix slid up behind him and took the kettle of hot water for dishwashing from his hands.
“Dishes can wait ‘til tomorrow,” Felix said quietly, kissing Two’s neck just below his ear as he set the kettle aside.
Two turned around. He was afraid Felix must be sick. ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness’ was the only line of scripture Felix had ever memorized.
Felix gave a small grin and shook his head. “Yes, I can see what you’re thinking, and no, I have not lost my mind. They can wait.” He placed his hands on Two’s chest and then slid them up under his coat, pushing it off his shoulders. “I think we both need this.”
Two’s mind flashed with deep, bright memories as he and Felix helped each other undress and settled onto the cot. He didn’t think Felix would understand that part of the Cylon psyche, how intense emotion and concentration on physical sensations involuntarily dredged up old memories of other strong feelings-not necessarily memories of sex; in fact, those emerged quite rarely-through projection. Many-most-the best were of Felix, but he would have been lying if he had said Felix was the only person he saw in those flashes of clarity. It didn’t mean Two was any less there in the moment with him, but it wasn’t something he could explain without hurting or frightening Felix. So, Two stayed silent about what he saw.
Now that he was with Felix, Two was remembering things he hadn’t known he’d forgotten. He thought they might be residual memories from being programmed as a sleeper at one time, but for some reason, he suspected some of these things had actually happened.
A man named Daniel sat beside him on a piano bench. He lifted the fallboard, revealing a long, straight row of black and white keys.
“You want to hear a miracle, Ben? I’ll give you a miracle.” He winked, then walked his fingers gracefully up the keyboard, note by note. “Each note is unique. Each key vibrates a string of a different length, and each string produces a different frequency of vibration, a different sound. But…” He paused so he could finish his stroll up the keys, reaching across Two to get at the last few notes. “But, if you play an octave…” Daniel took Two’s hand in his and directed him to press and hold a particular key; Daniel did the same to another key farther down. Daniel grinned at the flash of surprise on Two’s face.
“It’s one note,” Two whispered.
“No. It’s two keys, see?” The sound was fading, so Daniel lifted Two’s hand and placed it on the key again, doing the same with his own hand. “But the effect is universal, a law of nature, hardwired into us-and not just us, but everyone, humans, Centurions, the Progenitors, everyone-so that two sounds meld into one. So what you are hearing, my friend,” they pressed the keys down in unison once more, “is the voice of God.”
That was what this was like, Two thought as Felix moved inside him, hips rocking in a smooth, slow rhythm, building steadily to a crescendo until Two came and Felix followed just after. But best of all, that feeling didn’t dissipate. It was still there as they lay beside each other on the cot, Felix curling into Two as he drifted off to sleep. It would be there in the morning when they dressed for work and had breakfast, Felix grumbling about the food stuck on the dirty dishes from the day before.
Yes, he heard the music, Two thought to himself. If Felix didn’t yet, he would. Two prayed to God he would.