Title: Magic Mirrors
Author: MercuryPheonix (Your Angel of Music)
Fandom: EastEnders
Warnings: Some violent imagery, some sexual references
Spoilers: Begins in the period following Tamwar and Afia's wedding (early July, 2011).

Summary: In the midst of a turbulent period in Christian and Syed's relationship, a mysterious figure from Christian's past emerges with a revelation that rocks him to the core. In a world of uncertainly, there is only one thing that can be guaranteed: the couple's lives will never be the same again.

A/N: I wanted to be eloquent about this - but, to be frank, the only thing I can say is that this chapter was a bitch. It's taken me three weeks and several re-writes to get it right - including an overhaul of the overall plan and timeline of this whole fiction. This reshuffle has come from some of the wonderful comments I have received, specifically from Changehenge and the rightful enquiries about the length of the secrecy and Syed's continuing lack of realisation of just what the truth may be. As such, some of my plans have been overhauled and changed; but that's the point of WIPs, they work in response to the comments as they come in, which I think is the great advantage of posting a story as it is being written. A huge shout out to AlpineRidge, who has stuck with me through thick and thin, pulled me up when I needed to be pulled up, critiqued where I needed to be critiqued, and generally made sure that I kept these boys as true as they could possibly be - thank you, my dear, for helping me to realise that sometimes in order to do these characters justice one must do away with previously set plans and just go where they want to take me.

'Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present, and future.'

~Gail Lumet Buckley

x

Chapter 8

It seemed, to Syed, as if they had somehow stepped into a time warp.

As hands grasped at clothes; as lips and teeth sought out bare skin like a lion tearing into a wounded gazelle; as the room was filled with breathless, panting heat as they fought for oxygen, or dominance, or both; Syed was catapulted back to a time when this had been all they had. When those brief moments of physical reprieve, of panicked, hungry connection, had been the only thing that had kept him clinging onto his sanity.

He couldn't remember just what had sparked this off; there had been a row, of that he was sure, possibly over something as petty as whose turn it was to prepare the vegetables for dinner tonight.

The one thing he was sure of was that, one minute, they had been staring daggers into each other's eyes, mouths mere seconds away from spewing the most hurtful of venom. For the briefest of moments, Syed had been absolutely certain that this…this was it. The moment when they snapped. The moment when everything, everything, came spurting forth, breaking them apart with a ferocity previously unseen.

But it had never happened.

Instead, Christian - or had it been him? – had moved forward, crashing their lips together with an intensity that Syed realised he had missed in the past few weeks. Hands had curled in his hair, tugging at the roots until a sharp pain reverberated through his scalp; he'd reciprocated immediately, bunching Christian's top under his nails as if he could claw through into the skin beneath.

This. He could deal with this.

He could deal with the pent up tension if it lead to this. As unhelpful and ultimately damaging as he knew it was, this was something that he understood. Something that he could recognise; grasping at old memories, old emotions, drawing them to the surface and holding onto them as if they were a life raft in the sea of sudden uncertainty.

Somehow – Syed had never understood just how they did, but the cramped nature of the flat probably had something to do with it - they made it to the bed. Christian's teeth were now scraping sharply at the patch of skin just behind his ear as Syed struggled with his clothing, torn between wrenching his head away to divest Christian of his top and just letting him carry on with his ministrations. Eventually, he settled for working his hands beneath the material, bunching it clumsily beneath Christian's armpits to give him better access to the furnace of bare flesh.

Ever since they'd been together, together properly, the battle for dominance had taken on an air of playfulness; tussling, mock-annoyance, chuckled promises about next time. But the battle that was taking place here, now, was reminiscent of the early days of desperation and assertion, each of them vying for some level of control in a situation that was gradually sapping them of their power. Syed growled as Christian pinned his wrists to the head of the bed with one hand, frustration thrumming through him as he struggled against the iron grip; for the first time in a very long while, he found himself hating Christian's sheer physical size, loathing that he could use his frame to gain control of a situation that Syed, despite the bulky strength that a year of relative happiness had given him, was losing a grip on.

Anger mixed in with the physical sensation, catapulting him back to a time that was so much more complicated…and, yet, so much simpler as well. Back then, they couldn't have what they wanted – that had been fact. But now they could – but they didn't know how. It wasn't external forces anymore that were driving between them.

It was them.

All thought was banished as Christian wriggled his free hand beneath the waistband of Syed's jeans, the tightness of the material forcing skin to skin, flesh to flesh, nerve to nerve. Syed jerked upwards, one leg locking around Christian's waist to force them together. He could feel his nails digging into flesh, teeth scratching almost painfully against his neck, fingers setting his nerve-endings on fire; the visceral sensations over-powering all thought.

He didn't want to think anymore.

He wanted this. He wanted flesh. He wanted feeling.

This. This. This.

"Shit!"

Christian froze above him, spine tensing and hand stilling against Syed's flesh as if ice had been injected into his veins. As he stopped, the force-field of sensation that had formed around Syed's thoughts broke down; all the worry, the tension, the confusion, the fear flooded through him, a rush of emotion that shook him to his core.

They broke apart swiftly, Christian rolling to the side in order to face the source of the voice which had broken the all-consuming, angry passion.

Mara stood by the sofa, frozen to the spot as the lightest of blushes crept across her cheeks. Later, Syed would recall that her fingers had been twisting nervously in the hem of her top, her mouth opening and closing slightly, as if she was struggling to find any words. But, at that point, all he wanted was for her to go away – to leave them to the oblivion that they had all too willingly been seeking.

"Sorry," there was a slight tremor to her voice as she fought to pull herself together, genuine remorse tingeing the syllables. "I'll…I'll just go…"

Yes.

"No."

Syed turned, confusion shooting through him as he watched Christian lock eyes with the intruder.

"It's fine."

It's not.

"Stay."

Please go away.

Mara stood stock still, her eyes flicking between them; as if she were gazing into each them, able to read the disapproval that Syed was desperately trying to contain within himself. It was an irrational blame, a dislike that seethed within him – but he couldn't help it. And he knew, somehow, that Mara could see it. However, with one last twitch of her eyes towards Christian, she nodded; dropping her jacket onto the table before heading swiftly past them with a mutter that sounded vaguely like I need a shower.

Syed lay still on the bed as Christian hauled himself up, the noises exploding around him as he stared at the ceiling: the pattering of feet against the floor, the slight brushing noise as Christian manoeuvred his bunched shirt back into its rightful place and the thumping of his own still-frenetic heart against his ribcage.

The silence was sharp, cutting through him. Frustration bubbled ferociously inside of him, an unwanted mix of irritation, anger, desperation and…and blame.

Again, he was filing Mara away in that box that screamed: it's your fault!

He didn't want to. But he couldn't help it. It was a feeling that was too strong to subdue – all he could do was try his best to hide it, to keep it at the very bottom of the pile...even though he just knew that Mara had seen it in his eyes.

The guilt he felt at that only fed into the emotions: he felt himself despising her for being able to see it, loathing that she was looking at something that he didn't want her to see. Something that was none of her business. Like she was in their lives – none of her business. And yet she was there.

Why?

He'd gone along with Christian's assurances that she was 'a relative'- maybe others would call him stupid, but he preferred to think of himself as the keeper of the peace. Even before this…'relative'…had crashed into their lives, there had been a simmering tension in the air; emotions unvoiced, anxieties kept within closed mouths, disagreements locked deeply inside their hearts for fear of the damage that full-scale confrontation could bring. And Christian had seemed so…so down, so anxious, so beseeching as he had looked at Syed, willing and pleading for him to trust him, to not ask questions, to let him do this, please…

The enormity of everything suddenly hit him. This girl had taken over their lives, and Syed had been so wrapped up in his own futile attempts to repair the cracks that had been creeping in over the weeks to face the fact that he didn't know who she was. A relative? What did that mean? Why wasn't Christian being open with him about this?

He was being lied to. He was being locked out.

He deserved to know. He did.

Suddenly, a wave of determination crashed over him. He sat up abruptly, swinging his legs away from the bed and striding purposefully into the kitchen.

"Christian."

Christian turned to face him, a glass of water frozen midway to his lips. Syed fought the urge to swallow everything back, to step away and let the situation unfold as fate saw fit – but he couldn't, not anymore. He took a deep breath before continuing:

"Why is she here?"

The words were so determined, so decisive, so…un-Syed-like…that Christian blinked in surprise.

"Sorry?"

"Mara," Syed nodded in the direction of the bathroom. "Why is she here? Who is she to you?"

Christian blinked again; his eyes fixed at some non-descript point on the wall as his tongue came to swipe at his bottom lip. The veins began to stand to attention against Christian's knuckles as his hand tensed around the glass. Syed expected an outburst, some kind of harsh retaliation for daring to question him – but instead he just exhaled, fiery heat releasing itself with the breath as he deflated.

"I told you," he began to fiddle with the coffee maker, his thumb flicking distractedly over the buttons as he refused to meet Syed's gaze. "She's a relative. She's having a bit of trouble, so I said she could stay."

"Right," Syed tried to make the word sound convincing, but there was something sticking in his throat. He hated how scathing the word sounded coming out of him; it made him flinch inwardly, torn between his natural desire to not rile the situation further and the angry uncertainty that had him in an iron grip.

Christian's jaw had set, his hackles visibly raised as the unfamiliar, acerbic tone of Syed's voice hung in the air. He raised the glass stiffly to his lips, taking a loud gulp before holding it tensely in front of him.

"You don't believe me?" he looked up, a challenge in his eyes.

Syed tried to fight the challenge. He really did. But it was as if he had reached his final breaking point – the point where he couldn't keep everything contained within him any longer. He had accepted that this stranger had a connection to Christian – hell, anyone could see that they were related – but he could no longer fight the suspicions that were stirring in his mind. He wanted to know the truth – because he was certain he was only being shown the tiniest glimpse of a much fuller picture.

So Syed took another step forward, a million words fighting for dominance in his brain – but only one could win.

"No."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Christian, the atmosphere freezing around them; as if waiting for a sledgehammer to be brought down upon it, shattering everything. Syed waited for the blow to come, fully expecting to feel the full reverberations of his words.

But it never came.

Instead, Christian took a shaky breath, breaking his gaze away.

"Fine. You do what you want."

He turned away, draining the last of the glass as if he could wash away the venomous feelings that were shooting between them. Syed could feel a tremor running up his spine, the need to fight this out ricocheting around in his brain; butting heads with that part of him that had always, always, just wanted to keep the peace.

So, unable to balance his options, he took a step forward; hoping beyond hope that he could confront this without shattering the tense atmosphere.

"Christian," he raised his hand, letting it tremble a few centimetres from Christian's back before thinking better of closing the gap. "I just want you to be honest with me."

"I am being honest with you," Christian turned back to him, an unreadable expression on his face; the fact that Syed couldn't decipher his expression was terrifying. Why was he being so evasive – why wasn't he telling him what was wrong? There was something about the guarded expression – so unlike the Christian he had fallen for, the Christian who despised the thought of hiding and who offered honesty in all situations – that sent a wave of fear shooting through him.

"Christian…"

"Sy…please…"

"No, Christian. You're not telling me the truth. Not the whole of it anyway. I know you…" he took another step, his hand hovering just centimetres away from Christian's slightly grizzled cheek; the urge to press his palm against him, to cup his face in his hands and draw the truth from his eyes, was almost overwhelming. "…I know when you're not telling me something. Please."

Christian's eyes were fixed downwards; even as Syed's hand tickled the air above his cheek, even as Syed's words cut through the air towards him, even as Syed's gentle yet earnest plea for some kind of honesty to be restored fluttered between them – he didn't move.

Eventually, however, he did raise his gaze – not to look at Syed, but to stare intently at something just over his left shoulder.

"And I know you," his eyes flicked briefly to Syed, gauging like a spear before pulling away. "I know when you're not telling me something."

Syed's defences flared, suddenly, unexpectedly. Fear suddenly began to arise in his brain as all his doubts and anxieties of the past few weeks – from even before Mara had shaken things up – bubbled to the surface.

This direction…these plans…this adoption…so fast, far too fast…I don't know…I can't tell him…can't hurt him…

He swallowed, forcing those negative feelings down into his gut; where they should be, he thought, where they can't do anymore damage.

"Christian…" – look at me, please – "…you can't keep doing this."

"Sy…"

Christian's tone wasn't so much a warning as a desperate plea to stop; but Syed couldn't stop, not now. He had no choice but to keep pressing – urgent yet gentle, insistency that was loosely coated in a thread of comfort.

"A relative?" he tried, his fingers as close to Christian's cheek as they could humanly be without touching him. "What kind of relative? A family friend? A cousin? Or even a…a sister?"

The hand that was clasped around the tumbler began to shake, the remaining droplets of water shimmering slightly in Christian's grasp. That darkening fear that began to veil itself over Christian's eyes told him that he was closer…closer than Christian wanted him to be…maybe...

His heart suddenly gave a lurch as a thought grabbed hold of him; a realisation creeping up on him, something that seemed so terrifyingly obvious now that he was thinking of it…something that had been buried in the very depths of his subconscious, subdued by more prominent tensions, hidden away beneath a mask of seeming impossibility.

It can't be.

"She's not…"

He couldn't finish his sentence. Instead, he searched Christian's face; wanting him to refute everything, to crawl back into vagueness, to reassure him, to just have something that would let them resume with the normal rhythm of their lives.

Instead, Christian breathed out, a shaky kind of fear infused with his breath. He closed his eyes, a silent plea on his lips…

"I don't want to lie to you, Sy."

It was that tone of voice that Christian used when he wanted reassuring – when he wanted Syed to take his hand, to stroke his hair, and tell him that whatever he'd done, however stupid he had been, it would all be alright in the end…because Syed still love him, he still loved him and everything was going to be okay.

But all Syed could hear in his mind was the crumbling of his own certainty – he had needed reassuring, he had needed that from Christian, and Christian hadn't given it to him. Something was shaking within him, a belief that Christian would always be there to reassure him when he needed it, to tell him that everything was alright, to be the one to know the answers – it was trembling, cracking, crumbling.

"Then don't," his voice was shaking, not through anger, but through his fear of the unknown that was staring him in the face. "Tell me Christian…tell me…please…I need to know if she…"

The glass came slamming down onto the side, the sound reverberating violently through the air – finally breaking the silence that had wrapped them in an icy blanket. Christian turned, his raised hackles filling the kitchen as he looked in Syed's direction.

"Why can't you just trust me?" it wasn't quite a shout, but it was hovering precariously on the edge between fiery anger and quiet desperation. "It's…I just…I'm working on it, okay?"

He turned away, grasping the glass lightly and depositing it in the sink with an air of almost tentative finality. Syed, however, felt even more uncertainty simmering in his stomach, churning around with a force that he could ignore.

He stepped forward, again reaching out with one hand towards Christian – as if, if they could just touch, they would somehow reconnect and everything would start to make sense again.

"How can I trust you when you're not telling me the truth?"

Syed grasped Christian's shoulder as he tried to turn away, wrenching him back with as much strength as he could; Christian didn't even try to fight it, his whole body light as Syed swung him around.

"Christian?"

"I've never lied to you," Christian locked their gazes, grabbing at Syed's hand beseechingly. "Not once have I lied to you. I said I'd never lie to you, ever, and I keep my promises. Why can't you just let me work things out? That's all I want, is for you to let me deal with this. It's my problem."

Those eyes were there, those eyes that Syed couldn't normally resist. But today was different – today Syed was gripped by an uncertainty that Christian was doing nothing to help assuage. He felt everything…everything…bubbling within him, Christian's hold on his hand doing nothing but stoking a fire that was already in danger of burning out of control.

"Your problem? How can it just be your problem? She's here, Christian, affecting every single corner of your life…and I'm a part of that life. It's everything to do with me. How can you not see that? Do you really think that this wouldn't affect me…that it wouldn't impact on my life as much as yours? Do you really think so little of me, of us…"

Syed could feel the words biting at his throat as they came, but he couldn't stop. The floodgates had been opened, burned beyond recognition – words poured out of him, syllable after syllable, without thought of repercussion.

"I let her in here – on our sofa, in our home – and I did that because I trusted you. I thought you knew what you were doing…I believed that this was something you had under control, something that would just be for a short time, and I let you do that because I love you. How could I have been so stupid? She could have been anyone. She could have done anything. I didn't think. I didn't know what she could have done. She could have…I don't know…she could have slit our throats in our bed, made off with the television, anything."

Christian dropped his hand as if it had burned him, stepping back as if to shield himself from the torrent.

"But that didn't happen, Sy, she isn't…"

"How could I have known that? You didn't tell me."

"Stop it."

"To me she's a stranger, Christian. She's a stranger in our home. Here. Our home. We don't know what we're getting into here. What we're getting involved in. I don't want her here, Christian, please, I can't deal with this, with her, we can't…we just can't…I can't…"

Christian opened his mouth to reply – but something in his eyes suddenly changed, the frustration and anger morphing into fear as they caught something over Syed's right shoulder. Syed frowned.

"What…" and then he turned; and he saw.

Mara was stood frozen in between the bathroom and the bed, one hand supporting her against the wall whilst the other clenched into a fist at her side.

Regret plunged into Syed's heart like a jagged knife, tearing painfully at his insides as he saw the deadened mist that had descended over her dark irises. What he had felt – those emotions had been real, truthful, the raw feeling dripping straight from his heart. But those eyes…the hurt…and suddenly she was physical, young, vulnerable and no longer the big bad monster of his anxious, frightened imaginings.

"Mara," he hesitated as she failed to respond, wondering whether or not to take a step towards her. "I didn't…I'm sorry…I just…"

He made a tentative move in her direction, for some reason compelled to reach out a hand...but she snapped out of her reverie, staring straight into his eyes before slapping the hand away and pushing her way into the living area.

Christian followed, avoiding all contact with Syed as he manoeuvred around him.

"Wait…"

The bag was already in Mara's hand, a few items of clothing that had been strewn over the couch being roughly stuffed inside it.

"Mara," Christian caught her arm as she turned to leave, the bag slung precariously over one shoulder; she turned around reluctantly, a dull fire raging in her eyes as she faced him. Syed stayed out of the way, a little jealousy mingling in with the remorse as he saw that look pass between them once again – he swallowed it back, watching intently despite the unwelcome feeling creeping into his gut.

He heard Christian swallow.

"You don't…please don't…" there was a breath, another gulp; eyes narrowed, a gaze cast across the floor before the realisation that he couldn't stop her. Syed watched in silence at the silent exchange that seemed to pass between them – wondering how he had managed to miss – or, at least, unconsciously repress - the similarities that shone like the reflection from a slightly cracked mirror.

Christian was the one to break the silence:

"You just take care of yourself, okay?"

There was a beat – and then Mara nodded, moving gently, reluctantly away from his grasp and heading out of the door.

Once the door had clicked shut, Syed moved towards his fiancé. He didn't know what to say, how to make it better, what to do...he just wanted...what did he want? Something. He wanted something, anything that...

"Christian…"

But Christian side-stepped his comforting hand, refusing to meet Syed's gaze as he made his way back into the kitchen. Syed felt his heart plummeting into his stomach, a dreadful feeling that he hadn't felt for a very long time settling in his gut.

"Christian…we need to talk…"

And then Christian looked at him directly. The look was intensely cold, sending an unwelcome shiver up Syed's spine; he felt something inside him shrivel, the remaining fight retreating back into the depths it had come from.

"I think we've done enough talking for one day."

And Syed knew that those were the last words he was going to hear from the man he loved that night.

x

x

TBC

Thank you for hanging in there with this. There's still a lot of stuff that isn't answered - why is it that Christian is so against telling Syed the truth, why doesn he let Mara go rather than follow her as she leaves, and just what has Syed just realised (although I'm sure you've all worked this out already) - but I can assure you that these elements are all answered in the next few chapters, much of which is already written, or at least framed out. It will not be long! Thank you so much for sticking with me if you're still out there - I love you and your persistence, especially when it comes to the length of time and the monster nature of this chapter. The boys needed to have it out. So thank you, I love you, more statements of a grovelly and soppy nature and...yeah...it was comments in the reviews that led to a lot of changes in this fiction as well as just this chapter, so if you have anything to say then I would be most grateful and honoured to hear it. Thanks again!