(no subject)
Have a little more from the fic of doom, tenatively titled All That You Build, All That You Break. All the credit for Kate goes to 
technosage, blame me for Will.
(I'm not posting everything here yet, just what I feel are some of the better parts. I'll eventually put it all on Ao3, if I finish it.)
*****
Will's office in this new Sanctuary is similar to the old one in size and layout, but there are greens and blues and soft whites and glass instead of browns and blacks and polished wood, and there's a lot more windows and light. He doesn't hate it, but he isn't sure he likes it. He puts the toys on his desk but he doesn't sit there, because this isn't business; he bypasses the desk in favor of the couch under the window. Kate doesn't join him. She paces around the room, fingers skimming over the nearest flat surfaces. "Nice digs."
"I kind of miss the old office, you know?" It's hard to sit still when she's pacing, but he makes himself do it and give her the room to pace, if she needs it. "The old Sanctuary." He picks at the arm of the couch and mashes a cushion. It's like her fidgeting is contagious or something. He thinks about all the psychiatrist-tricks he knows to nudge people into talking and decides that Kate will see right through every one of them as bullshit and shut him down, and he decides the best thing is for him to sit back and let Kate get to whatever is bothering her at her own pace.
She gives him a look that's a little acidic. "What, you weren't on board with changing the decor? How could you refuse the corner office, the green, the view?"
Will flicks his fingers against the arm of the couch, a little dismissive, and it's hard to hide that he still feels a little bitter about this even though he now sees the larger picture. "I didn't know any of this was going down." He doesn't just mean the decor, he means the whole damn Sanctuary, and he still doesn't quite get why Helen shut him out of her plan--it's not like he would ever have betrayed her, ever. Even when he was almost convinced she'd lost her mind, when she pushed him out of the Sanctuary and into the waiting arms of Addison and SCIU, he wasn't going to give up her secrets. "I was out of the loop."
Kate's still got her back to him, but he can see her nod. "I know," she says, a little softer than before. "I didn't mean..." She gives him a little half-shrug, slower, like she's weighing words. "I get why. I just... it's not okay with me." It's a little deflated, no bite to it, mostly just hurt.
And the reason for this, at least, is pretty clear to Will. "Because of your father." Kate's only told him a little bit, but he's seen her file, and he knows enough to know that blowing up what she considered her home (and he knew she did, Hollow Earth or not) wouldn't go over well with her.
He knows he's touched the point when she slams her hand against the wall. "Praxis. Three surgeries. A time dilation field and an ICBM. My dad." She shrugs her shoulders, hard and tight, and spins around to face him. "You know he probably lost his mom the same way. Magnus. She probably blew herself up trying to protect him."
Will's pretty sure she's right, though obviously he doesn't know--but he knows--because that's just how Kate is, something that wouldn't change no matter who they were in that other place, just like Will doesn't like lies and secrets--and everything in him wants to go to her, but he doesn't, because the very fact that they were together in this other life is making things exactly so he can't, like a barrier that's holding him back. "I don't doubt it." He waits, and thinks, and the effort of not going to her makes him stop fidgeting and be still, at least for a minute.
Kate looks away, and there's a struggle there that Will can't see. Something quiet and difficult and when she looks at him again, she's got her thumbnail caught between her teeth, almost hesitant. "I know," she says. "Because I'd do it to save you."
He knows she'd do it, too, just like she made Ravi bring him back in Mumbai (I don't give a crap about your last requests) and the way that even when she was making GEICO jokes and yelling at him for climbing on the ceiling, she was still looking out for him in a way nobody else was--making sure he ate, trying to communicate with him when he wasn't even human anymore. She didn't give up on him even when he nearly took her damn head off for it. "Kate..." He hesitates, then mutters a mental fuck it and gets up and goes to her.
Will had something in mind to say to her, less in mind than in feeling, but it abandons him when he gets close, and instead of trying to jam together some other, maybe not-as-good words, he curls a finger around one of hers and tugs her hand away from her mouth for the simple reason that her chewing on her thumbnail makes her look more vulnerable than he can cope with. It makes her look vulnerable and it reminds him too much of the little boy (their little boy) who sucks his thumb when when he's upset and he can't handle putting his feelings for the two of them in such close proximity.
Kate's reaction is immediate, dropping her hand away like he burned her. "The hell, Will?" She says it like she wants to be pissed off at him, but it comes out more scared than angry.
He can't explain to her why he did that, because explaining means admitting how she looked just then and he can't--it's making him wonder too much about the other Them, what they were like, what they felt, why they loved each other. So apologizing, then, instead of explaining. "I'm sorry. I just... I missed you."
She softens a little at that--not much, just enough that he knows it's there. "Of course you do," she says, faintly teasing. She reaches out to him, curls her fingers over his forearm, just for a moment, and lets go. "I didn't know about him when I came up here, Will. I came for you."
"C'mere." Will reaches for her, pulls her close, draws her into a hug without stopping to think whether she's going tell him to fuck off or shove him away or just stand there--he doesn't think about that because he has to do this, because he's been wanting to do it since he sat by her bed for a week and waited for her to wake up.
Kate tenses when he touches her, but it shudders through her and disappears just when Will's bracing himself to be shoved away. "Sorry," she says quietly. "About before. I...know it's not how I said. I just..." She rests her forehead against his shoulder, curls her fingers against his back. "Wasn't expecting to be the next virgin birth, you know? I wasn't expecting to have a kid with you."
Will finds himself relaxing, easing her closer. "I know you didn't mean it like that. It's okay," he says softly. "I didn't expect it either. I haven't thought about kids with anyone." Hasn't thought about kids with anyone except taking precautions not to have any, that is, even after that crazy psychic-worm-spit-induced dream-world shared with Helen where he and Abby were parents-to-be. "But we have him now, you know? And he's..." There isn't a word for what Magnus is to him yet, and how he feels about him--how does he feel like his father so quickly?
"Great," Kate says. "He's really great." The words come hard, with effort. "He's ours. Somewhere over the rainbow or whatever, you and I had a kid. At the end of the world. So either we were fucking stupid. Or...we wanted a kid."
Will is so glad to feel like he's made a reconnection to her, however small or tenuous, that it doesn't occur to him that it might be time to let go of her--he doesn't want to, not yet, and weirdly this is slightly easier to talk about if he's touching her. "I wish I knew..." He draws back a little, then, but he doesn't really let go either. "I don't think it was being stupid or careless. Either of us." It's something that's been bugging him, too, but he knows himself well enough to believe that something like the world ending would make him more careful, not less.
Kate smirks a little. "It must have been the end of the world if you were banging me."
He's caught totally off-guard at that, at the way she says it, and he makes a noise that's part cough, part laugh, and part snort. It's not like he's never thought about it before, to be honest he has, now and then, although with slightly different wording--because Kate's attractive and smart and damn good at what she does. "What? Are you kidding?" he says. "It wouldn't have to be the end of the world."
Then he realizes how that sounds, on a number of levels, and also realizes he says it while he's still touching her, and he thinks maybe, possibly, if he tries really hard he could probably make this more awkward than it is right this second.
Kate, for her part, takes it in slightly better stride, though not much; her eyes widen and she freezes, but quickly replaces the stunned look with a flashy smirk. "Good to know. Always did wonder what you'd be like."
If he didn't know better, didn't know Kate, he'd take that as flirting, but he does know her and he's pretty sure that's not it. He wants to snark back at her with a comment like couldn't have been many complaints or something else that's at least nominally in defense of himself, but for some reason he pictures her giving that little smirk to Garris and then the words don't quite make it from his head to his mouth; instead, he shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets, a little awkwardly. Maybe she'll let up with the pseudo-flirting-that-isn't.
But she doesn't. Instead her smirk softens just a little. "Kinda figured you'd be fun. All shrunk out of your hangups and really good at figuring out what makes me tick."
And that's even more awkward because the idea of knowing what makes her tick is just... wrong. He knows what makes Abby tick: thoughtful gestures, lots of kissing, lots of cuddling, making out in unexpected places. Trying to figure out what makes Kate tick--even thinking about trying to figure it out--is like trying to figure out what makes a sister tick, except he doesn't have a sister and if he did he wouldn't be thinking about her like this. He desperately wishes he could make a joke about this, lighten the awkward, but he finds it hard to make jokes about sex with someone he cares about. "We must have been good together," he says. "I don't just mean like that. I mean... in all the ways."
Not that that's going to do anything at all to lighten the awkward, but it's the truth, and maybe getting it out there will make figuring out what to do about Magnus a little easier. And there was a time, before Kate left for Hollow Earth (maybe even a little still) where they were a good team. Good cop/bad cop, profiler and con, Will and Kate.
It doesn't really help, though. Kate just says a quiet yeah and looks away--she's back to him for a second, and then he sees something shut down, like a curtain drop, and he's lost her again. There's a lot in the way Kate looks away, and back at him again, and it's a hurt look, but it's also written all over her that there's more to what's bothering her than what she's saying--and more than bothering her, it's hurting her. And there's a vague awareness that whatever's hurting her might be too... risky to get too close to, so even if he can't figure it out, he can at least (maybe) help with the part that hurts. "Hey." Will touches her arm, lightly, both because he's trying to reassure her and because he needs to. "I know it's weird. But this is us. We'll be okay."
Kate's not buying it. "Yeah," she says again, a noncommittal acknowledgement, not agreeing, not disagreeing. "I'm sure it'll work out."
There's a feeling Will gets a feeling from Kate, or maybe not so much a feeling as this little undercurrent of don't go there, or back off, or something like a little warning sign flashing at him to tread carefully, so instead of hugging her again, like he really wants to do, he just rubs his fingers lightly against her arm where he's already touching it and squeezes lightly. He's still trying to find the right words when her phone chimes, and the moment breaks; he lets his hand fall away without comment.
Looking away, Kate slips the phone from her pocket and answers. "Yeah?" Will can't hear what's going on, so he waits. "Crap, yeah sure." Her expression changes then, to something warmer, less conflicted. "I'm still here, baby." It must be Magnus. "Yep, he's still here too. We were just having grownup time." She glances at Will then, and it's like none of the rest of their conversation happened; talking to Magnus makes her eyes light up like he's never seen. "Promise, we'll be there soon." To Will, she says, "I think we just made a monster. He wants a phone," and then adds, into the phone, "Yeah, Mag--Helen, we're on our way."
"I guess naptime's over, huh?" Will says, when Kate slips her phone into her pocket.
"Yeah." She starts for the door, then comes back, helping Will gather up the things on the desk. "Listen, I know it's totally splitting hairs and it might be too close to a lie for you, I don't know. But could we just agree that 'Mommy' means 'what Magnus calls Kate' and 'Daddy' means 'what Magnus calls Will' so I don't have to keep finding ways not to call you 'Daddy' for him?"
Will thinks about what Abby said about how it wouldn't be lying if he adopted a child so why should this be lying? It makes more sense than anything else does right now. "Yeah," he says. "It's not lying. It's how he sees us. And I..." Will wants to say I love him, because he really does; he's fallen hard for this little guy and can't imagine loving him more if he'd actually fathered him, but he's not quite ready to say it out loud, not yet. "Yeah." Surprisingly, it chokes him up a little, and he clears his throat to cover it. "I'm okay with that."
Kate glances up at him and smiles a little, and Will could swear she's teasing him. "Just so we're clear, you ever call me 'Mommy' when he's not in the room or on the phone and I gut you. Got me?"
This entry also posted at http://ceilidh.dreamwidth.org/1155434.html, where it has
comments. Please comment there. LJ comments have been disabled due to the new site scheme.
technosage, blame me for Will.
(I'm not posting everything here yet, just what I feel are some of the better parts. I'll eventually put it all on Ao3, if I finish it.)
*****
Will's office in this new Sanctuary is similar to the old one in size and layout, but there are greens and blues and soft whites and glass instead of browns and blacks and polished wood, and there's a lot more windows and light. He doesn't hate it, but he isn't sure he likes it. He puts the toys on his desk but he doesn't sit there, because this isn't business; he bypasses the desk in favor of the couch under the window. Kate doesn't join him. She paces around the room, fingers skimming over the nearest flat surfaces. "Nice digs."
"I kind of miss the old office, you know?" It's hard to sit still when she's pacing, but he makes himself do it and give her the room to pace, if she needs it. "The old Sanctuary." He picks at the arm of the couch and mashes a cushion. It's like her fidgeting is contagious or something. He thinks about all the psychiatrist-tricks he knows to nudge people into talking and decides that Kate will see right through every one of them as bullshit and shut him down, and he decides the best thing is for him to sit back and let Kate get to whatever is bothering her at her own pace.
She gives him a look that's a little acidic. "What, you weren't on board with changing the decor? How could you refuse the corner office, the green, the view?"
Will flicks his fingers against the arm of the couch, a little dismissive, and it's hard to hide that he still feels a little bitter about this even though he now sees the larger picture. "I didn't know any of this was going down." He doesn't just mean the decor, he means the whole damn Sanctuary, and he still doesn't quite get why Helen shut him out of her plan--it's not like he would ever have betrayed her, ever. Even when he was almost convinced she'd lost her mind, when she pushed him out of the Sanctuary and into the waiting arms of Addison and SCIU, he wasn't going to give up her secrets. "I was out of the loop."
Kate's still got her back to him, but he can see her nod. "I know," she says, a little softer than before. "I didn't mean..." She gives him a little half-shrug, slower, like she's weighing words. "I get why. I just... it's not okay with me." It's a little deflated, no bite to it, mostly just hurt.
And the reason for this, at least, is pretty clear to Will. "Because of your father." Kate's only told him a little bit, but he's seen her file, and he knows enough to know that blowing up what she considered her home (and he knew she did, Hollow Earth or not) wouldn't go over well with her.
He knows he's touched the point when she slams her hand against the wall. "Praxis. Three surgeries. A time dilation field and an ICBM. My dad." She shrugs her shoulders, hard and tight, and spins around to face him. "You know he probably lost his mom the same way. Magnus. She probably blew herself up trying to protect him."
Will's pretty sure she's right, though obviously he doesn't know--but he knows--because that's just how Kate is, something that wouldn't change no matter who they were in that other place, just like Will doesn't like lies and secrets--and everything in him wants to go to her, but he doesn't, because the very fact that they were together in this other life is making things exactly so he can't, like a barrier that's holding him back. "I don't doubt it." He waits, and thinks, and the effort of not going to her makes him stop fidgeting and be still, at least for a minute.
Kate looks away, and there's a struggle there that Will can't see. Something quiet and difficult and when she looks at him again, she's got her thumbnail caught between her teeth, almost hesitant. "I know," she says. "Because I'd do it to save you."
He knows she'd do it, too, just like she made Ravi bring him back in Mumbai (I don't give a crap about your last requests) and the way that even when she was making GEICO jokes and yelling at him for climbing on the ceiling, she was still looking out for him in a way nobody else was--making sure he ate, trying to communicate with him when he wasn't even human anymore. She didn't give up on him even when he nearly took her damn head off for it. "Kate..." He hesitates, then mutters a mental fuck it and gets up and goes to her.
Will had something in mind to say to her, less in mind than in feeling, but it abandons him when he gets close, and instead of trying to jam together some other, maybe not-as-good words, he curls a finger around one of hers and tugs her hand away from her mouth for the simple reason that her chewing on her thumbnail makes her look more vulnerable than he can cope with. It makes her look vulnerable and it reminds him too much of the little boy (their little boy) who sucks his thumb when when he's upset and he can't handle putting his feelings for the two of them in such close proximity.
Kate's reaction is immediate, dropping her hand away like he burned her. "The hell, Will?" She says it like she wants to be pissed off at him, but it comes out more scared than angry.
He can't explain to her why he did that, because explaining means admitting how she looked just then and he can't--it's making him wonder too much about the other Them, what they were like, what they felt, why they loved each other. So apologizing, then, instead of explaining. "I'm sorry. I just... I missed you."
She softens a little at that--not much, just enough that he knows it's there. "Of course you do," she says, faintly teasing. She reaches out to him, curls her fingers over his forearm, just for a moment, and lets go. "I didn't know about him when I came up here, Will. I came for you."
"C'mere." Will reaches for her, pulls her close, draws her into a hug without stopping to think whether she's going tell him to fuck off or shove him away or just stand there--he doesn't think about that because he has to do this, because he's been wanting to do it since he sat by her bed for a week and waited for her to wake up.
Kate tenses when he touches her, but it shudders through her and disappears just when Will's bracing himself to be shoved away. "Sorry," she says quietly. "About before. I...know it's not how I said. I just..." She rests her forehead against his shoulder, curls her fingers against his back. "Wasn't expecting to be the next virgin birth, you know? I wasn't expecting to have a kid with you."
Will finds himself relaxing, easing her closer. "I know you didn't mean it like that. It's okay," he says softly. "I didn't expect it either. I haven't thought about kids with anyone." Hasn't thought about kids with anyone except taking precautions not to have any, that is, even after that crazy psychic-worm-spit-induced dream-world shared with Helen where he and Abby were parents-to-be. "But we have him now, you know? And he's..." There isn't a word for what Magnus is to him yet, and how he feels about him--how does he feel like his father so quickly?
"Great," Kate says. "He's really great." The words come hard, with effort. "He's ours. Somewhere over the rainbow or whatever, you and I had a kid. At the end of the world. So either we were fucking stupid. Or...we wanted a kid."
Will is so glad to feel like he's made a reconnection to her, however small or tenuous, that it doesn't occur to him that it might be time to let go of her--he doesn't want to, not yet, and weirdly this is slightly easier to talk about if he's touching her. "I wish I knew..." He draws back a little, then, but he doesn't really let go either. "I don't think it was being stupid or careless. Either of us." It's something that's been bugging him, too, but he knows himself well enough to believe that something like the world ending would make him more careful, not less.
Kate smirks a little. "It must have been the end of the world if you were banging me."
He's caught totally off-guard at that, at the way she says it, and he makes a noise that's part cough, part laugh, and part snort. It's not like he's never thought about it before, to be honest he has, now and then, although with slightly different wording--because Kate's attractive and smart and damn good at what she does. "What? Are you kidding?" he says. "It wouldn't have to be the end of the world."
Then he realizes how that sounds, on a number of levels, and also realizes he says it while he's still touching her, and he thinks maybe, possibly, if he tries really hard he could probably make this more awkward than it is right this second.
Kate, for her part, takes it in slightly better stride, though not much; her eyes widen and she freezes, but quickly replaces the stunned look with a flashy smirk. "Good to know. Always did wonder what you'd be like."
If he didn't know better, didn't know Kate, he'd take that as flirting, but he does know her and he's pretty sure that's not it. He wants to snark back at her with a comment like couldn't have been many complaints or something else that's at least nominally in defense of himself, but for some reason he pictures her giving that little smirk to Garris and then the words don't quite make it from his head to his mouth; instead, he shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets, a little awkwardly. Maybe she'll let up with the pseudo-flirting-that-isn't.
But she doesn't. Instead her smirk softens just a little. "Kinda figured you'd be fun. All shrunk out of your hangups and really good at figuring out what makes me tick."
And that's even more awkward because the idea of knowing what makes her tick is just... wrong. He knows what makes Abby tick: thoughtful gestures, lots of kissing, lots of cuddling, making out in unexpected places. Trying to figure out what makes Kate tick--even thinking about trying to figure it out--is like trying to figure out what makes a sister tick, except he doesn't have a sister and if he did he wouldn't be thinking about her like this. He desperately wishes he could make a joke about this, lighten the awkward, but he finds it hard to make jokes about sex with someone he cares about. "We must have been good together," he says. "I don't just mean like that. I mean... in all the ways."
Not that that's going to do anything at all to lighten the awkward, but it's the truth, and maybe getting it out there will make figuring out what to do about Magnus a little easier. And there was a time, before Kate left for Hollow Earth (maybe even a little still) where they were a good team. Good cop/bad cop, profiler and con, Will and Kate.
It doesn't really help, though. Kate just says a quiet yeah and looks away--she's back to him for a second, and then he sees something shut down, like a curtain drop, and he's lost her again. There's a lot in the way Kate looks away, and back at him again, and it's a hurt look, but it's also written all over her that there's more to what's bothering her than what she's saying--and more than bothering her, it's hurting her. And there's a vague awareness that whatever's hurting her might be too... risky to get too close to, so even if he can't figure it out, he can at least (maybe) help with the part that hurts. "Hey." Will touches her arm, lightly, both because he's trying to reassure her and because he needs to. "I know it's weird. But this is us. We'll be okay."
Kate's not buying it. "Yeah," she says again, a noncommittal acknowledgement, not agreeing, not disagreeing. "I'm sure it'll work out."
There's a feeling Will gets a feeling from Kate, or maybe not so much a feeling as this little undercurrent of don't go there, or back off, or something like a little warning sign flashing at him to tread carefully, so instead of hugging her again, like he really wants to do, he just rubs his fingers lightly against her arm where he's already touching it and squeezes lightly. He's still trying to find the right words when her phone chimes, and the moment breaks; he lets his hand fall away without comment.
Looking away, Kate slips the phone from her pocket and answers. "Yeah?" Will can't hear what's going on, so he waits. "Crap, yeah sure." Her expression changes then, to something warmer, less conflicted. "I'm still here, baby." It must be Magnus. "Yep, he's still here too. We were just having grownup time." She glances at Will then, and it's like none of the rest of their conversation happened; talking to Magnus makes her eyes light up like he's never seen. "Promise, we'll be there soon." To Will, she says, "I think we just made a monster. He wants a phone," and then adds, into the phone, "Yeah, Mag--Helen, we're on our way."
"I guess naptime's over, huh?" Will says, when Kate slips her phone into her pocket.
"Yeah." She starts for the door, then comes back, helping Will gather up the things on the desk. "Listen, I know it's totally splitting hairs and it might be too close to a lie for you, I don't know. But could we just agree that 'Mommy' means 'what Magnus calls Kate' and 'Daddy' means 'what Magnus calls Will' so I don't have to keep finding ways not to call you 'Daddy' for him?"
Will thinks about what Abby said about how it wouldn't be lying if he adopted a child so why should this be lying? It makes more sense than anything else does right now. "Yeah," he says. "It's not lying. It's how he sees us. And I..." Will wants to say I love him, because he really does; he's fallen hard for this little guy and can't imagine loving him more if he'd actually fathered him, but he's not quite ready to say it out loud, not yet. "Yeah." Surprisingly, it chokes him up a little, and he clears his throat to cover it. "I'm okay with that."
Kate glances up at him and smiles a little, and Will could swear she's teasing him. "Just so we're clear, you ever call me 'Mommy' when he's not in the room or on the phone and I gut you. Got me?"
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