A/N- This pairing intrigues me like nothing else. I think this just might be the very first Ando/Hiro on ff...but if anyone knows of others, I would be glad to read them.
And for another note, a hemiola is a musical term that describes a pattern where two bars in triple time are articulated like three bars in duple time, but that is not needed to understand this fic. It's just a little factoid that popped into my head when I went to title this thing. Anyways...enjoy!
What was it with threes?
Third time's a charm. Three ring circus. Three cheers. Three square meals.
Ando never understood the English language's preoccupation with this lopsided number. He had been a star student in his English classes long ago when he dressed in the blue starched uniform of his high school. It had been his favorite subject before he gave up the idealistic goggles of youth and willingly lived in his cubicle, slaving away for the rice on his table and clothing on his back. It was funny how he now remembered a passage in his textbook, one of the 'cultural footnotes' in a shaded blue box, about English language idioms dealing with the number three. The book stated that the obsession with threes stemmed from a veneration of the church's holy trinity; with the catholic church being the driving force that had defined so much of the culture in early English speaking nations.
There were so many more sayings about threes. Three strikes, you're out! The Japanese had absorbed that one the day that Americans brought out the bat and ball to bide their time while they cleaned up their own tragic mess and fallout.
Bad things came in threes, or was it good things? Maybe it was both. Ando could keep up a conversation easily in this adopted tongue, much more so than Hiro, who still stumbled over his l's and r's, even though it was easy to see the man's admirable efforts. Hammering the shiny metallic ring of his bright Japanese vowels into the darker, rounder syllables of English words had just never worked for Hiro back in those days. Speaking always come more naturally to Ando. He couldn't manipulate the barriers of time and space, but at the moment, his tongue was just as useful.
Third wheel.
Ando couldn't believe when Hiro had told him about the waitress with the quicksand memory. She had learned their own Japanese tongue by reading– no, ingesting language textbooks. "Aishiteru," she had told him.
"Aishiteru."
Like the executioner's axe. In the language that they both held dear, the last remaining secret code. That was a commitment that was between two people. Where would that have left Ando?
Alone.
Sure, Ando was not always the smart one or the sensible one. He wasn't the huggable, duty-driven, slightly naive, back-to-the-future poster child. He didn't even have any extraordinary powers to market at all. Hiro had known his mission right from the start, whereas Ando had tried to hide his extreme curiosity in Hiro's life by immersing himself in the broadcast of a woman who aroused his body but never his mind.
It was Ando's shoulder Hiro cried into when he realized that he could not change the past. If he traveled back to any time, he was meant to be there. He just might not know it yet.
Ando held him close to his heart while he grieved. Even though Ando had to admit a twinge of jealousy, he would never have wished such a bitter fate on any person. Especially not upon the one who his Hiro loved.
Lub-dub, lub-dub. Systole-diastole, systole-diastole. The valves of Ando's heart beat their rhythm, steady and nourishing. Two, it spoke. The two of us. I am here for you. I will always be there for you. I have followed you this far and I will follow you as far as you wish to take me. The tears stained Ando's shirt and he leaned his head down, resting his temple in the silky black hair. Now Ando felt like crying, too.
Two of a kind. Two peas in a pod. Partners in crime.
Perhaps there would be a day when another person would stand in the narrow gap between their hearts. Of course, Ando would never tell Hiro that it bothered him. Whatever the fluffy little world builder needed, Ando would get for him. In time, Ando would forget what it felt like to be Hiro's right hand and would be just as delighted to follow behind him. Besides, that's what friends are for, right?
The lesser of two evils.
Would Ando ever say anything to Hiro? No, probably not. Such things were not really proper at times like this. Sylar, the psycho zombie impostor, presented a formidable challenge, and the threat of an exploding man now overshadowed the future . Now, there were even more people just like his Hiro that he had sworn to protect and save.
Ando watched the sunshine break across Hiro's face when he smiled at breakfast. With honey and syrup on his plate, he painted a face onto the canvas of a waffle and propped it up to face Ando. Hiro absolutely glowed whenever an idea spawned in is head.
"I know what must be done!" Hiro exclaimed. He then began to dismember his breakfast and talked about his newest plan for saving a portion of the world from what was most certainly sudden death. It was rather cute, really.
"What shall I do?" Asked Ando.
He already knew the answer to this one, though. There were so many things that only Hiro had the possibility to do. Any less humble person would have probably decided to answer only to the nickname "God" or "Lord of Time" or some other bullshit, uppity title. But that's what made Hiro, Hiro; Ando didn't mind in the slightest. Hell, perhaps in his own twisted closed-door religion Ando really did call him God. He certainly worshiped him enough.
Hiro smiled at him and placed a warm and reassuring hand on Ando's shoulder. "Wait here for me. Then we will have lots to do."
Ando nodded. He would wait, not knowing when to expect his best friend to return, as long as it would take. Hiro needed Ando to carry out his valiant plans and Ando, well, Ando just needed Hiro.
The empty space that followed Hiro's body after he did his little squinty-eyed, clenched teeth, teleportation dance never seemed to fill up in his wake, no matter how bulky the stretches of time were that he was gone, whether it was mere hours, days, weeks, or even months.
Yet even then, with every elastic minute that Hiro wielded in his hand, Ando still could remember that time was fleeting. That was unlike some things, these were the true things. The only things that mattered were the ones that Ando already knew.
Please review to let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!