Brother from another mother

Silence.

Silence has a peculiar quality to it. For being an absence of sound, for being nothing, it has the ability to become something important, to mean everything. In a split second, two men, boss and associate, were blanketed with silence. Words caught in the throat of one and tragedy caught in the throat of the other, sound became nonexistent much like the understanding one wished to convey.

When sound abandons a person, their sight is left to pick up the pieces, to make up for all the blanks left on the page. This is why he doesn't understand why silence can be defined as an absence, when it makes everything else become so present, even itself. It makes the man's face in front of him become a canvas painted in every expression that passes between his mind and soul. Expressions flash across his features like a flip book, but his eyes take on a quality of their own. For a fraction of a second the man's eyes are haunted, his past almost playing in them like a film, and he irrationally thinks that maybe if the man didn't blink he could watch what the man so desperately tried to keep secret, play out and have all the answers. However, like the last nail in a coffin, the man's eyelids slid closed wiping away his memories that threatened to show through.

He swallowed hard, the words he couldn't say making it difficult to do such a simple task, and stared at the man who now, for the first time since silence had set in, looked back at him. He could see water lining the bottom of the other man's eyes, jeopardizing the man's efforts to keep the beast, his beast, in its cage. The man's body shook, the affect of the battle wearing him down, his memories becoming too heavy to support by two legs that already trembled. Despite the fact that the man was undoubtedly losing, he stood tall, as tall as buckling knees would allow, and like the fraction of a second it took for silence to come, it left.

"Michael."

His voice was firm and demanding, but he wasn't demanding for the man to keep fighting. He was telling him he was going to fight with him, telling him if the man had to let his beast out, he would do his best to put it back in, because not even the best closer in New York could slay the beast that came with death.

His hands, hands that on any other day wouldn't even grant the man a high-five in the best of circumstances, caught the younger man under the arms and made up for the strength the man's knees failed to give him. His head hung, unable to fight against the chain reality had wrapped around his neck and forced down.

"Michael."

His voice was still demanding, but not as firm, not as firm as his arms that supported the younger man, no, the kid, in front of him.

"Harvey, I.. I..."

"It's okay, kid."

He is a good liar, but he knows that the kid isn't convinced. The younger man won't look at him, can't look at him, but his arms are hurting from the weight they hold. They aren't hurting as much as the soul he's so desperately trying to keep intact, but they hurt and the pain tells him this has to end.

"Stand up, Michael."

It was an easy command to give, but such a hard act for his associate to do. However, the younger man still tried. The kid grasped the front of his jacket and pushed himself away from him just far enough to comply. With one last heave, he lifted his arms which were still under the kid's, as if resetting him, as if once the younger man's feet were back on the floor both men would be back in time, back three minutes, back before Michael lost his grandmother. It didn't happen, despair still swam in glassy eyes and a soul still searched for direction, a direction only Harvey could provide.

"Look at me."

He waited until his associate looked up in his direction, even if it was with unseeing eyes.

"We're going to walk out of here, we're going to get in the car and Ray is going to drive us back to my place. You don't have to talk to me, you don't have to even acknowledge me if you choose not to. I'll let you do whatever you damn well please, so long as it is

constructive."

The younger man looked at him, eyes now focused, and searched, searched him to find the catch. Michael searched the map that Harvey laid out for him to find where he would get lost and never find the treasure, but fortunately he came up empty.

"Okay."

Although his associate agreed to the plan, words weren't enough to unlock the shackles of loss and despair that bolted him to the hospital floor. The younger man stood, eyes wide and chest heaving as breathing became increasingly hard, and pleaded for Harvey to do something, anything, even if it meant killing him.

Instead of the quick end he was asking for or the supply of oxygen he wanted, he was granted with two hands guiding him to sit on the floor then his head was forced between his legs.

"Breathe, Mike."

The kid struggled, but did his best.

"Michael, just breathe."

Eventually, breath came and went regularly, as well as time. Boss and associate sat in the floor in a hallway of a hospital and silence had once again blanketed them. But now silence had become something, meant everything, and neither wanted to break it. So Harvey did the only thing he could do, he stood, pulling Michael with him. The younger man took unstable steps as they walked down the hallway, almost as if he was fearful if his feet would actually land, but when a supportive arm wrapped around his shoulders the ground became more clear, more stable.

They reached the exit, night air blowing against their faces. The younger man froze, not wanting to step outside, fearful of the different world he was about to step into. The arm that was around his shoulders tightened and silence was broken as if he had stated his fears aloud.

"I'm right here." Harvey assured his associate. Then, silence was once again restored.

Silence has a peculiar quality to it. For being an absence of sound, for being nothing, it has the ability to become something important, to mean everything. In a split second, two men, boss and associate, were blanketed with silence. Words caught in the throat of one and tragedy caught in the throat of the other, sound became nonexistent unlike the understanding that had just been conveyed.