Title: What the heart sees
Pairing/Characters: Adam Lambert/OMC (Michael Fitzharris)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 8 x 100
Warning(s): PTSD, mention of child death
Beta reader(s): @ThraceAdams
Author's note : Part of: <a href="http://http://archiveofourown.org/series/34858/">A man in uniform</a> series, This story happens some time after Adam and Michael meet.



“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt-“

Adam flaps a hand in Michael’s direction, meaning don’t worry about it and thank you at the same time. Adam’s tired and his head hurts and the heat in the studio’s been on the fritz, so his t-shirt is sticking to his back. Michael’s like a breath of fresh air.

“We needed a break anyway.” He steps away from the performance area of the rehearsal space and over to where Michael’s been sitting watching the band for the last few minutes. “Sometimes you just gotta walk away, you know?”

Michael nods but doesn’t move.

~*~

“See you in twenty,” Brian calls out, following the others out the studio door. Adam waves a vague acknowledgement, his eyes focused on Michael.

“You okay?”

Michael shrugs. His eyes are clouded, his whole body tense. Adam pulls a chair up to settle beside him and leans in to put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. Michael flinches, pulls back, then blinks and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. What’s going on?”

Michael shakes his head again, hands gripping into white-knuckled fists in his lap. “I should go.”

“Hey, no-“ Adam puts a hand on Michael’s arm. “Talk to me. Please.”

~*~

There are tears in Michael’s eyes when he finally looks up at Adam. “I- “ He coughs. “I just needed-.”

Adam waits. He can feel Michael’s need pulsing off him in thick waves.

“They say Fallujah was beautiful once. Now it’s broken stones, torn hopes.”

Adam fights back a gasp.

Usually, when Michael talks about his time in Iraq it’s all public relations patter and well-rehearsed lines. But one night, before Michael had snuck out of bed, the mask had fallen away. He’d looked shattered, ripped open to his core.

It’s the same look Michael has in his eyes now.

~*~

Michael’s staring past Adam’s head, seeing something else, the war probably, certainly not Adam and not the studio.

“Day after day. No matter what we did, it was always the same. IED’s and snipers. Sand and heat. Children screaming. Not even the water was safe to drink. Nothing was safe. Nothing was good. It was all-“

A shudder ripples through Michael’s body. His hands are opening and closing around something not in the room with them. Adam stares, watching as Michael’s fingers turn and start to claw at his arms, like he’s trying to get something off of his skin.

~*~

“She was so little. A rare, precious bit of joy in the middle of all that brown and gray.” Michael’s hands stop scratching and he looks up at Adam, tears coursing down his cheeks. “She couldn’t have been more than five. God, Adam she was so young. So beautiful.”

Adam offers his hands to Michael, palm out, every movement slow and careful. After a moment, Michael slides his hands into Adam’s. His fingers grip Adam’s so hard it hurts, but Adam holds on.

“I couldn’t – “

Adam nods.

“Her dress was blue. It was so blue. Brighter than the sky.”

~*~

“It’s okay,” Adam murmurs. It’s not, it never will be, Adam knows that, but it’s all he has, that and his compassion. He won’t say love, it’s too soon for that, but oh gods how his heart aches for this beautiful man. “It’s okay.”

Michael shakes his head. “No, no.”

“Shhh.” Adam presses a kiss to Michael’s forehead. “It’s over. Nothing you can do now. Just breathe.”

After a couple of failed attempts, Michael sucks in a deep breath and nods.

“That’s it. Keep breathing.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers.

“No, don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

~*~

“I shouldn’t have brought this shit here,” Michael says, his words slurring together. “I knew you needed the rehearsal time. I shouldn’t -“

“Michael, stop.” Adam tugs on Michael’s hands until he looks up. “I’m glad you came.” Adam wants to say that he’s honored Michael would trust him, but the words feel empty compared to what Michael’s been through. “I am.”

“I just –“

“What?”

“I needed to see something else. Something that was alive and vibrant. Beautiful.” Michael’s face changes, softens. The grief is still simmering under the surface but his eyes, his whole demeanor, is almost relieved.

~*~

“I thought of you,” Michael says, his voice soft and filled with wonder.

“Me?”

Michael nods. The pain is still there in his eyes, but now there’s also the hint of a smile, hope, on his lips. “You.”

“I don’t-“ Adam tosses his head, happiness and uncertainty zipping along his spine.

“You,” Michael cups Adam’s face in his hands. “Are the most beautiful – your heart is so full. And when you sing, when you love me -” Michael looks at Adam. “You push the darkness back.”

Adam stares at Michael, humbled.

“Thank you,” Michael says just before he kisses Adam.