Between the Day and the Twlight
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1
Pairing:
Rating: PG
Spoilers: SG1, Heroes; SGA, Home
Word Count: 3,460
Notes: For the crazy gang who wanted more… you know who you are. Clara, name that tune.
In the living room, he finds his first clue
that all is not as he left it. Oh, it’s neat enough, orderly enough, but it’s
also clean, surfaces gleaming in the morning sunlight, not a speck of dust to
be found. And since there’s been no-one in here since he left for Atlantis, and
before that, when he was stationed in
His eyes run around the room, checking that
everything is where it should be, something that strikes him, in a voice that
sounds far too like Rodney McKay for comfort, as ridiculous, because no burglar
worth is his salt is going to break into his house, leave his television and
stereo intact, yet still find the time to do a spot of dusting. That voice is
stilled abruptly when
X Men
2 is not a DVD that he’d ever admit to owning. Nor
is it a DVD that he watches often, and he hasn’t watched it since long before
he left for
There is no reason, no reason at all, why this box would be left on his coffee table in his living room, and he sees his own hand reaching out, picking it up, studying it, as if to make sure it’s not a hallucination.
“I thought Patrick would keep me company while I waited.”
The voice comes from his left, from the doorway between the kitchen and the living room if he’s not mistaken. It’s a voice that makes him drop the DVD, makes him turn sharply, and what he sees robs the breath from his lungs, makes tears come to his eyes.
Because what he’s seeing is a ghost.
Janet Fraiser looks just like he remembers her, casually dressed in jeans and a white shirt. Her red hair falls loose around her shoulders, just the way he likes it, and she smiles at him as she leans against the doorframe. He knows her well enough to note the slight tension around her lips, see the slightest hint of nerves flitting through her eyes. Quite why she’d be nervous when he’s the one who stood by her graveside, watched her coffin being lowered into the cold earth, his arm around her sobbing daughter, is a tale for another time though, because he’s far more interested in figuring out what the hell is going on here.
He’s staring at her, shocked, unable to speak, and she gives a nervous little chuckle, eyes darting down to the box on the table. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she quips, and it’s almost enough to make him believe that all this is normal – how many times did she remind him that if Patrick Stewart ever called to her door, he’d find himself dumped faster than she could say yes?
“That’s not my primary concern right now,” he manages to say, and even he’s shocked by how hoarse his voice sounds. It must surprise Janet too, because she takes a step towards him, tilting her head quizzically. “How… what…?”
That’s all he can get out before his voice deserts him, and Janet takes another step towards him before stopping. When she speaks, her voice is as faltering as the step that she just took. “When I heard that you were coming back… I came over…” She glances to the front door, to the hall table and the drawer where she, the more safety conscious of the two, had always left her keys when she was there. “I still had my key… I didn’t think you’d mind…” Her voice trails off then, and she shifts on her feet, sliding one hand into the back pocket of her jeans. “I thought you’d want to see me.”
The last is said so quietly that he can barely hear her, and the plaintive tone in her voice breaks what little of his heart had remained unbroken. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, love,” he breathes, and when she looks up at him through her eyelashes, her lips are curved in a smile that just begs him to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.
A split second later, that’s what he does, because really, having travelled from a galaxy light years away to come home and find her waiting for him, who is he to argue?
In that split second, he’s sure that’s he’s
not actually going to get to kiss Janet. After all, he’s dreamed about spending
time with her before. Sometimes it’s at work, the two of them pottering around
Med Lab at
But every time he goes to kiss her, when his lips are in touching distance of hers, he wakes up.
So today, when his lips meet hers, and they’re warm and inviting and so damn familiar that it literally brings tears to his eyes, it’s just one more wonderful surprise to add to the list.
None of which stops him from breaking the
kiss far sooner than he normally would have, far sooner than she would have
liked if the pout on her face is anything to go by. The pout quickly disappears
though, softening into concern, her hands sliding around to rest on his chest
from where they’d been splayed on his back. “
He has to swallow hard, shake his head in an effort to clear his thoughts, because nothing’s wrong, and that’s the whole problem. It’s easy though, when her arms are around him, when those big brown eyes are filled with worry and frowning up at him, to push that aside, just like he pushes aside the lock of hair that’s falling across her cheek, tucking it back behind her ear. “Nothin’, love,” he says. “I just canna believe I’m here w’you.”
It’s the truth, and she shivers in his arms; belatedly he remembers that she always loved it when his accent deepened like that. (“Better than Patrick Stewart?” he would tease her, often tickling her in the process, and she would laugh and pretend to have to think about it, before kissing him in a response that rendered any words superfluous.) His hand lingers on her cheek, her hand coming up to cover his, and she whispers, “I missed you.”
“Aye,” he tells her, his own voice even quieter than hers. “And I, you.”
There’s a long moment of silence then, and, because there’s nothing more that needs to be said, he pulls her close and kisses her again.
Their second kiss is longer, more intense, than the first, and when they pull away, they’re both breathing hard, clothes mussed, and if the look in his eyes is anything like that look that’s burning in Janet’s, Carson’s surprised they haven’t spontaneously combusted by now. Sliding his hand into hers, he leads her towards the staircase, because whatever’s going on here, whatever miracle’s been granted, their first time in far too long is not going to be conducted on the floor of his living room. They deserve more than that. Behind him, her chuckle is low, sounding slightly filthy, and she drawls, “Why, Doctor Beckett… it’s not even noon yet.”
She’s not offering any resistance though, and when he pushes the bedroom door shut, takes her into his arms again, she offers even less.
Later – he doesn’t know how much later, nor
does he care –
His study of her is disturbed when she takes a deep breath, her head nudging into the pillow just like it had nudged into his hand earlier on. He knows she’s on the verge of waking up, and he can’t resist, has to lean forwards, pressing his lips against the hollow where her neck meets her shoulder, his hand running from her shoulder down her arm. Her eyes don’t open, but her smile widens and she shifts against him, the noise she makes almost a purr of contentment. When his hand moves from her arm, reaches under the sheet to trace a path along her stomach, that’s definitely what it is, and he hears it again when she turns around so that she’s facing him, her lips meeting his.
It’s her turn to study him then, brows knitting in a frown. “Did you sleep?” she asks, and he shakes his head, finger wandering up and down her arm again.
“Too busy admirin’ the view,” he says, and her blush starts below the line of the sheet that’s covering her body, spreads all the way up to her cheeks.
“You need to sleep,” she tells him, trying for the firm tone that every officer in Cheyenne Mountain is used to hearing from their CMO, missing it by a mile.
“Plannin’ on keepin’ me up, are you?” he asks, and while her blush intensifies, she meets his gaze without blinking.
“Got a problem with that?”
“Not at all,” he says, brushing a quick kiss across her lips. “Matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind stayin’ here for quite some time…”
She laughs again, turning so that she’s lying on her back, still not taking her eyes off him. “Sounds good to me,” she says. “I already booked time off…”
“Ah, forward thinking… I like that.” Tilting his head, he looks at her curiously, because she looks very pleased with herself. “So what plans do you have for me?” he wonders, and when she bites her bottom lip, he knows she has something up her sleeve.
“Well… I didn’t tell Cassie you were coming home…” she begins, and he grins, because he’s missed Cassie, just as much as he’s missed her.
“How’s she getting’ on?”
“She loves it. I’m not sure how much studying she’s actually doing… but she’s so happy… I was thinking that we could go up there and see her… spend some time together, just us… no SGC, no work… just us.”
Janet looks at him, then over his shoulder to the bedside clock. “It’s early afternoon,” she points out, and he’s pretty sure that his smile is closer to a leer, equally sure he doesn’t care.
“And if you think I’m letting you away from here to book flights and the like,” he says, “You’re much mistaken.”
Again, there’s precious little resistance when he pulls her close, and when next he takes in his surroundings, the sun is low in the sky, Janet’s head against his chest, her ear right over his heart. “You want food?” she murmurs, and he chuckles.
“Always doctorin’… always takin’ care of people…” His throat closes unexpectedly, and he hopes she doesn’t notice the pause he takes to regain control. “I dunno what you’ve got planned, love… but I don’t think I’ve got any food in the place…”
Janet props herself up, using his chest as leverage. “I brought some stuff,” she admits. “And there’s a chicken casserole ready for the oven…” She gets a triumphant look in her eye as his stomach realises that, yes, in fact, he is hungry; moreover that her chicken casserole might be just his favourite meal. It was what she made the first time that she had him over for dinner at her place, the first time she introduced him to Cassie, the first time it really felt like they had something special, like the three of them could be a family. It’s the meal she always made for special occasions after that; his birthday, their anniversary, the day Cassie got into college.
“That’s just what the doctor ordered,” he begins, and she rolls her eyes at the pun, the slap to his chest negated by the gleam in her eyes. “But if it involves you leaving this bed…”
He reaches for her, but she’s too quick for him, rolling out of the reach of his arms and out of his bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and slipping it on, finding her jeans a few steps away. “I’ll get started,” she tells him, and he watches her as she makes her way out the door, jeans still in hand, admires the swing of her hips – a little extra added for his benefit, maybe? – admires the way the light strikes her hair, and when she pauses at the door, looks over her shoulder and throws a smile his way, it gets a little harder to breathe.
When she is gone, he lies back down, stares at the ceiling and takes a deep breath, then another. With the oxygen comes clarity of thought, and with it, the sure and certain realisation that when he rises, when he goes to the kitchen, he will find an empty house. Fear-induced adrenaline has him rising, grabbing whatever clothes he can find in his closet, pulling them on and practically sprinting downstairs, only relaxing when he hears her humming to herself – Big Spender he thinks – and he takes a minute to study her before she realises that he’s there.
She jumps when she sees him standing there, but she’s not mad at him, instead puts him straight to work, putting the table to rights as she chops vegetables, and when everything is either cooking, or ready to be cooked, they make their way to the living room where they curl up on the couch, talking and catching up on everything that’s been going on in their lives. He tells her all about Atlantis, she tells him all about Cassie, and when she casts a glance at the DVD box on the table, he pulls her close and kisses her, and she only pulls away because she thinks she can smell something burning.
Dinner is as wonderful as ever, and as is their custom, she sits on the kitchen counter while he washes up, teasing him for the hundredth time about being a domesticated man. For the hundredth time, he flicks soapy water at her, making her squeal and duck, and tells her that she’s lucky to have found him.
He’s joking, but when she looks at him, dark eyes shining, lips upturned in a soft smile, when her hand reaches out and closes over his wrist, when she whispers, “I am, you know,” it’s not funny any more.
Dishes or no, from that moment, it’s a short distance to the bedroom, where once again, time ceases to have any meaning. Only when the room is dark, bedside lamp casting shadows over her face, only when she is snuggled against him, microns away from sleep, does he register that they’ve spent the whole day together, one perfect day that he’s only been able to wish for.
That’s when he knows.
“You must be exhausted,” she whispers, looking up at him, her palm tracing a path along his cheek, down his neck to his shoulder, then back up again. “Go to sleep.”
His smile this time is sad, and he moves his head from side to side. “Don’t want to,” he tells her. “I don’t want anything to change…”
She looks down with a smile, the faintest of blushes coating her cheeks. “Nothing’s going to change,” she tells him, leaning into him, kissing him quickly. At least, she intends it to be quick; he has other ideas, his hand going to the back of her head, holding her in place, deepening the kiss. It’s the most intense of all their kisses this day, with a hint of desperation behind it, and when she moves away – not too far away, he won’t let her go – her eyes are wide, almost stunned. Her mouth opens, and it looks like she’s going to speak until he stops her with a shake of his head.
“I love you,” he tells her. “I know I did’nae tell you that enough… but I do. I always will.”
Tears fill her eyes, and she nods, swallowing hard. “I know,” she tells him. “I love you too.”
Another kiss, initiated by her, fierce and desperate, and his eyes close in spite of himself. Her lips are still on his and he can feel sleep approaching, but he fights it, because he doesn’t want to go to sleep, wants to stay here with her, talk until dawn, make love to her, watch the sun rising and repeat the day all over again…
Then her lips are gone, as is the warm weight of her body, and slowly, his heart aching, he opens his eyes, knowing what he’s going to see.
A spartan room, the finest accommodations Atlantis has to offer. No sunshine streaming through the windows, no kitchen downstairs with half-washed dishes and half-consumed bottles of wine. No Janet in his arms, ready to face the day.
He’s never had a dream that detailed before, and he knows what caused it, having listened to everything that happened to the expedition team as he examined them in Sickbay. Doctor Weir told him all about General Hammond and Stargate Command, Rodney was muttering something about a next-door-neighbour and a cat, and Teyla was full of tales of the trading communities she visited, something that made Major Sheppard roll his eyes. But it was Sheppard’s tale of his ultimate bachelor pad and the visit of his dead friends that really stayed with Carson; that, and the fact that they’d managed to talk the aliens into letting them return to Atlantis, rather than let them live out what time their bodies would survive in an illusory reality of their own choosing.
She’s still gone, and he still doesn’t want to live their life without her.
Except now he’s lying here in this little room, and he’s staring at the picture propped up against a lamp on his bedside table. In that picture, Janet is throwing her head back, laughing at some story that Cassie was telling her, neither of them aware that he was talking the picture. It’s a single moment frozen in time, one moment out of a thousand, and his throat closes up as he realises anew just how much he misses them both, how much he misses the life they could have had, the life they did have.
When he heard Major Sheppard’s story,
He knows, and he’s glad that he stayed behind. Because given the scenario the others faced, and given that same choice, he’s not sure that he’d be strong enough to walk away.
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