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thisendlesslostparade · 4 years

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2044 - Mr Robot

I wrote this in less than an hour and the writing sucks but I hope this hc makes you feel as warm inside as it makes me feel.

CN: Mention of death, grief

The door rang, and it completely took the young man by surprise. He raised his head from the artwork he was currently working on, his gloves covered in paint. Luckily he always put them on when he was working - he didn't like getting his hands dirty.

Quickly he tore off the gloves, before he made his way to the door.

The young man wasn't what you would consider an anxious or careful person, something he must have inherited from his parents. Instead of checking the security camera first, he opened the door immediately. In fact, the camera had been his husband's idea, personally he thought it was a bit paranoid to be scared of invaders when you lived in the middle of nowhere.

"Hello?" He asked, his eyebrows raised as he saw who was standing in front of him. It was a dark-haired man, probably in his mid-fifties, dressed in a warm winter jacket and wearing a ridiculous hat on his head. His huge eyes looked so kind and worried that the young man opened the door a little wider, even though he still had no idea who it was.

"Hello", the older man said in English. "My name is Elliot... Are you Marcel Wellick?"

Marcel shifted his position, getting a but impatient. "I am", he said. "How can I help you?"

The man took a deep breath, the warm air creating a fuming sensation in front of them the second he exhaled.

"I knew your father, Tyrell. I'm Elliot Alderson", he finally said. "I know there's no reason why you would just let me talk to you, but that's okay. I just wanted to see you're doing fine, and it looks like you are." He smiled awkwardly and turned around.

His father, Tyrell. The words sounded strange to Marcel. He had a father, but his name was Olaf and he was the sweetest person in the world. When his parents adopted Marcel, he had only been about four months old, and it was all he had ever known -The most wonderful, most caring people in the world.

"Do you have anything to prove that?" He heard himself say, although he didn't need proof. The man, Elliot froze and turned back towards the door.

He bit his lip, thinking. "I have nothing to remember him by", he said. "I have his old phone but it stopped working decades ago. I'm sorry. I should just leave."

The young man shook his head, panic in his eyes. "No, no", he quickly said, "I need proof that you are Elliot Alderson. I know who that is for God's sake, it's not like we didn't hear about 5/9 and all that over here."

And there was something else.

"Please, come in. You're gonna freeze your American ass off."

A quick smile appeared on Elliot's face and he nodded, then hesitantly entered the house. He had never seen anything this luxurious - even the entrance was bigger than the apartment Elliot had lived in when he was Marcel's age. Whatever Tyrell's son was earning his money with, he seemed to be having the kind of success his father always dreamed of.

Just a little joke - of course Elliot knew what Marcel earned his living with. Mastermind had hacked him, months ago - besides, a quick Google search would have been enough in this case.

Apparently Marcel was the CTO of the biggest Danish conglomerate there was, which had caused Denmark to become one of the most powerful countries in the world, practically over night. And regardless, Marcel Wellick was only 29 years old.

"You're mad rich and still answer the door yourself?" He asked, something that had been Robot's first question, but Elliot was only now ready to ask it. Robot could be so rude sometimes.

"Well, I do have a security camera. That wasn't my idea either though. I can defend myself, don't worry." The cocky smile, the confidence, all of it was just screaming Tyrell's name. However, his brown hair and facial features showed a lot more similarities to Joanna. The eyes though - Elliot wasn't sure about the eyes yet. They had the same intensity as Joanna's, the same shade of blue as Tyrell's but there was no sign of either of their coldness and arrogance.

"Here." Elliot awkwardly fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his ID. A quick glance at it and Marcel seemed satisfied.

"I'm not entirely surprised anyway", he said and pointed towards the large sofa, signifying Elliot to sit down. "I'm gonna show you something."

Elliot sat down, his heart still pounding in his chest. It had been a risky decision, all of this. First the trip to Scandinavia, then the countless google searches until he, of course, found out where Marcel was currently living. And the conversations he'd had with the other alters, most of them thinking it was a terrible idea. Well, here he was now.

Marcel returned, a piece of paper in his hand. Since everything was mainly digitalized nowadays, people who kept paper in their houses were usually hopeless romantics or hipsters. If Marcel belonged to the first group, he sure was a lot like his dad.

Elliot reached out his hand as he held up the paper, signifying him that Elliot should read it. The way he was fidgeting with the seam of his shirt showed Elliot that the young man wasn't nearly as chill as he seemed at first - he was nervous, unsure how to behave.

Elliot unfolded the paper and started reading.

"My son,

It is unlikely that the two of us will ever meet again - I have not fully given up hope yet and I never will, but my main goal is to protect you from the people who destroyed my life. I want you to be safe, and for my own sake, I'm gonna have to assume that you are.

When you are old enough to read this or even have it read to you, I will probably be long dead. But that doesn't mean there are no people who care about you. Your new parents looked lovely on the pictures I was shown.

Let me tell you the whole story, so you hear it from me, just once, and not from someone who wasn't there."

Elliot skimmed the next few paragraphs, his heart thumbing in his chest. It was the whole story of the year 2015, as Tyrell had seen it.

And in fact, his name was mentioned a couple of times. To Elliot's surprise, Tyrell hadn't left out a single detail, not the unpleasant things, not the terrible crimes he had committed, nothing. And not even the fact that Tyrell had been in love with him, Elliot.

"I know there is no way you can ever forgive me for failing you as a father, there is just one thing I want you to know, and that is that your mother and I loved you and cared about you, even when we failed you in any possible way. I'm so incredibly sorry, and I love you."

Elliot felt his eyes watering, so he put down the letter, trying to steady his breath.

"I don't know what to say", he squeezed out, looking right at Marcel who had sat down in front of him.

"Is it true?" Marcel asked, suddenly looking more like a little boy than a grown man. "Is that... what he was like?"

Elliot tilted his head, then looked back down at the letter, his fingers tracing the faded letters, the unfamiliar handwriting.

"He did those things, yes", he said quietly. "And he loved you. He loved his wife, and he loved me. I loved him too, but I wasn't the one in control of myself back then." He smiled, knowing full well Marcel wouldn't understand that last part.

"Did anything ever happen between you and him?" Marcel asked, then quickly added: "No details please. That's still my father we're talking about."

Not him and me, Elliot thought. Everyone in this body somehow had a connection to him, though.

"It's complicated", he answered truthfully. "Marcel, your father was not a good person, but he also wasn't the cold blooded asshole some people believe him to be. You know it's always more complex than just... black and white."

The young man nodded slowly. For a minute not a single word was spoken. Then Marcel spoke again.

"Why did you come here?"

Elliot sighed. "I needed to talk to you. All these years I never forgot about him, or you. I wondered whether anyone ever told you who your dad really was. I wondered if you ever even talked to someone who knew him. Whether you were treated well by your new parents."

Marcel seemed too lost in his own thoughts to answer for a moment, then he said: "He'll have been gone for 29 years next week."

Elliot nodded. "Christmas coming up."

It was the hardest time of the year for Elliot, even harder than the anniversary of his father's death. If it wasn't for his sister and friends, he didn't know what he would do.

They passed a few meaningful glances, then Marcel got up.

"Do you wanna stay for dinner? Why don't we catch up by eating some good food. My husband will be here any minute, he makes the best Hønsekødssuppe in the world."

Taken by surprise, Elliot checked his watch.

"That would be nice", he finally said. "My plane doesn't leave until tomorrow."

"Perfect. It'll be fun having dinner with you Elliot." As he noticed the shock on Elliot's face, he froze. "Are you okay?"

Somewhere inside of him, an old wound was starting to hurt again, but he smiled like nothing happened. This wound wasn't his, it was someone else's - someone he just happened to share a body with.

"No, that sounds great, thank you."

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