Fic: "Northern Skies & Quiet Times" (Jensen/Cougar, Rated PG, Post-Movie)
Title - Northern Skies & Quiet Times
Rating - PG
Disclaimer - Jenna and Beka Jensen are mine, otherwise I'm just playing with them.
Pairing - Jensen/Cougar
Summary - You have returned home, to northern skies.
Author's Note - So this was kind of brought on because I wanted to write something happy. I did three fics for my 10_hurt_comfort challenge, and all of them were...emotionally draining to say the least. And I wanted to write something for marvinetta to read, as my last fic was not her cup of tea. So this is for you, hon! Hope you like. ^_^
Inspired by Dido's latest album, Safe Trip Home.
The sun is dying when you turn onto quiet Grafton Street. The van rattles past perfect little families and their white picket fences, completely unconcerned with a monster their own government had made with global reach and infinite resources. You list off their names in your head, fingers tapping an unsteady beat against your knee. When a hand, warm and comforting, covers yours, your fingers still immediately on your thigh. You don't have to look up to know who's hand it is, you just curl your fingers around it and squeeze like it's the only thing keeping you alive.
The van comes to a stop in front of a unspectacular home, nondescript and so terribly plain, but nothing has ever been more beautiful to you. Your heart pounds painfully in your chest. You're not ready for this. You don't know what to say, what you could possibly say to make something like this okay. You don't know if it can even be okay. All you know is that if it's not okay, you might just die.
A soft voice says your name, bringing you back to the present. His dark eyes are concerned, and you smile in reassurance, knowing that it doesn't quite reach your own eyes. He sees it, but says nothing, and you're grateful.
They're behind you, your adopted family, as you walk up to the front door. When you just stand in front of it for a moment, unable to lift your hand and actually ring the doorbell, you feel his hand brush your back. You know his touch like you know how to breathe. It gives you the courage to hit the button.
The bell chimes somewhere in the house, a voice responds, and your heartbeat quickens. You feel sweat bead on your hairline, and it chills in the waning New Hampshire evening. Your fingers begin tapping against the side of your leg, and this time no one stops you.
"Coming!" A musical voice calls from behind the door, and the familiar click of the doorknob turning makes your breath catch. The door swings open, much too soon, and she's there like a dream.
She's unchanged from the last time you saw her all those months ago. Her long hair, the same shade of blonde as your own, is golden in the sunset. Her blue eyes are darker, surrounded by shadows, and widen when recognition crosses her face. She's become pale, and you notice she's lost weight. It hurts to know you've done this to her. You still smile awkwardly, rubbing your sweaty palms on your pants.
"Hey, Jenna." Your voice is deceptively calm. She stares at you, blinking, then looks at those crowded behind you, skipping over the new face. Her mouth works, opening and closing, but she can't seem to find words. You're kind of proud you could do that to her.
"J-Jake?" She finally whispers, eyes coming back to your face. She reaches out hesitantly and you see her hand tremble in the air. After a moment you finally lift your own hand (you notice it trembles as well) and meet her palm with your own. She gasps at the contact, sharp in the heavy silence, and pulls you close, hugging you with the crushing strength of someone who has just seen the impossible. She is trying hard not to cry in your ear, instead whispering your name over and over. It takes you a minute to realize you're trying not to cry as well.
She's suddenly gone from your arms but it's okay because she's hugging the others and they're like her family too. She hugs him first, Cougar, your best friend and something else that you don't want to define right now but it's pretty damn close to love. She says something in his ear that makes him laugh, and you'd be jealous if it wasn't your sister.
Clay holds out his hand for a handshake, and she bats his hand aside, throwing her arms around him in a very Jensen way. He smiles and hugs her back. You see Aisha sizing her up, but you know if she makes even the slightest wrong move toward Jenna she'll have four pissed off operatives on her hands, and relax.
Last is Pooch, and she's talking in his ear, most likely about Jolene and the baby. You know she kept an eye on the woman while her husband was gone (dead) and it makes you smile. She can never not be a big sister.
When she draws back, taking all of you in, you see her tears spill over, but God, if she isn't glowing with happiness. Your chest swells, and things are so right and so perfect and so good that you're terrified it's all a dream.
"Mom? What's going on?"
You look into the house, frozen in place. She's taller and thinner, a little more gangly than the last time you saw her. You know from experience that she'll grow into her long limbs, but right now is the awkward in between phase. She's the spitting image of her mother at that age; at least if the photo albums are anything to go by.
The little girl smiles at you, youth and innocence and light, and it sort of feels like you've gone back in time to your own childhood. You force yourself to remember that she's your niece, not your sister that was suddenly turned eight years old by some science experiment gone awry.
"Uncle Jake!" She drops the soccer ball in her hands and runs at you full speed. You spread your arms and brace yourself for impact, but she's grown, and you find yourself on your butt with an armful of squealing, wriggling eight year old. She's asking questions, chatting a mile a minute, and they're questions you pray she'll forget, because you don't know how to answer them yet. She suddenly stops and looks up at you, face solemn. "We thought you were dead." Her blue eyes are wide and shining and not for the first time your heart hurts at the knowledge that you'd hurt your family so much with your deceit. You run your hand over her hair and as your palm cups the back of her head remember holding her in the hospital while your sister slept after 26 hours of labor, how her whole head had fit perfectly in the curve of your hand.
"I know, Beka. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You tell her honestly, because you've never treated her like a child. She's an old soul, wise beyond her years, and you know it.
She looks at you a minute, expression indecipherable, then smiles again. You see the echo of hurt in her eyes, and know that she had grieved hard for you. Perhaps she was still grieving up until the very moment she saw you. But she's pushing it aside and putting on a brave front, so you don't call her on it.
"I missed you, Beks." You tell her, hugging her to your chest again.
"We missed you, too."
It's not forgiveness, she may not be ready for that, but you'll wait, no matter how long it takes.
It's some time later when you step onto the back porch. There's still a glow of light on the horizon, illuminating the lines of houses and trees for a distance. Above that still-smoldering fire the sky is blue velvet intercut with diamond stars. You smile to yourself. You've been all over the world, and nothing makes you feel more at home than a northern sky. Everything just seems sharper and clearer up toward the top of the world without the over-powering heat to weigh down the air.
The sliding glass door rolls open and shut behind you, and your sister joins you at the railing, overlooking her small backyard. You stand in silence, just listening to her breathe. You know she has things to say; things she wanted to say the moment she opened the door, but they were things better said in private.
"What did you say to Cougar?" You finally ask, perhaps to break the silence. When you look over at her she's smiling her enigmatic little smile.
"I said that he didn't have you home in time for curfew like he promised."
You laugh. She knows. You'd been wondering if she knew since before Bolivia. The last time you'd been home, Cougar had come with, and you just got the nagging feeling when she looked at you two that she had put the whole picture together. But she said nothing, so you said nothing, and you let it go.
Then you nearly died. She thought you had died. There was no time for secrets anymore.
"Is it...so..." You're lost for words. This never happens. You finally sigh, gathering your courage once more. "You okay?" It's lame, but it's all you can manage. She looks at you with her "you're-such-an-idiot" look.
"Jacob," She only uses your proper first name with the look. You try hard not to smile. "He's family. They all are. Hell, I'm listed as Cougar's emergency contact."
"You are?" You didn't know that. She blinks, realizing what she'd said.
"Oh, yeah. Well, I found out he didn't have anyone listed the last time he was hospitalized, so I offered," She shrugs coolly, and you're filled with the urge to hug her. "I always worried about him when you guys were on leave. I didn't really trust that he'd call one of you if he got in trouble," She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes toward the heavens. "You boys always play so rough, and then me and Jolene gotta listen to you complain and make the chicken noodle soup." In the light coming through the door you see her blue eyes sparkle playfully. It also catches a glint of something metal on her neck that you recognize as a chain. Her hand comes up to touch it, and you realize she's not smiling anymore, her mouth in a tight line. You realize what it is she's wearing, and you take a step back.
"Shit. Sorry. I..uh..." You start, not sure what to even say. She pulls the necklace out from under her shirt and holds the two pieces of metal dangling from the chain in her hand. Both of you stare at the tags.
You can barely make out the raised letters of your own name, birthdate, serial number and religion. You didn't really want to put down a religion, but had finally just settled on Catholic for lack of anything better. You'd tried to convince the guy making your tag to put Satanist just for giggles, but he'd stared at you blandly until you muttered something he apparently approved of. That was when you discovered that the Army had pretty much no sense of humor.
Maybe that was a hint the universe was trying to give you to fucking run.
When you look at the other tag, you realize it's not a copy of your own. Instead it has Cougar's name and information. Your brow knits and you reach out to touch it with hesitant fingertips.
"Nobody else was gonna claim them." You finally look up at your sister, your hand dropping to your side. She's still staring at the metal in her palm, and you can tell she's trying not to cry. "I gave Beka the matching set. She hasn't taken them off since..." She doesn't have to say it; you know. Her hand closes around the dogtags and she brings her hand up to her chest. "What happened, Jake? They said....." She takes a breath, closing her eyes and trying to collect herself. Your hands move to hold her, bring her close, but you stop yourself. You know she needs her space in this moment. "They said so many terrible things about you guys. I knew they were lying, but why....why did they lie?" She finally opens her eyes and looks at you like she can decipher the answer on your own face. "What happened in Bolivia?"
You chew her question for a moment. You don't know how to answer this. You can't give her the whole truth, it'll put her in danger. But you can't tell her another lie. You just can't.
"We were supposed to die in that helicoptor. 25 kids were killed instead," You finally settle on. "We were betrayed; set up. And now we're hunting down the guy that did it."
It's simple, uncomplicated. She doesn't have to accept it. She stares at you for a moment, then finally nods. "Okay."
The door slides open, making you both jump. Cougar steps out into the night, smiling his little smile at your reactions. Both of you laugh a bit uneasily and you see her slip the dogtags back under her shirt. "He's all yours, Cougs," She tells him, patting his shoulder. "Try to keep it down, will you? I really don't want to have to explain anything to Beka in the morning." You feel yourself blush, and Cougar just tips his hat, smile widening. You punch him lightly in the arm, making Jenna roll her eyes. She sends a last wave over her shoulder before disappearing into the house, leaving you two alone. You shake your head, smiling in spite of yourself.
"She knows?" He finally asks you. You nod.
"Yep. Don't know how she figured it out, but that's Jenna for you."
You move over to the porch swing, sitting down with a sigh. He sits beside you, thighs and hips and shoulders in contact though the seat is big enough for you both. You don't complain, leaning into him, and he lifts his arm to curl around your shoulders. You tuck your bare feet under yourself and lean against him further, head nearly resting on his shoulder. You yawn, suddenly exhausted. He chuckles quietly next to your ear.
"Cansado, cariño?" He murmurs, slipping into his native tongue like he so often does in these quiet times. You smile at his familiar term of endearment.
"Si." You respond, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. He runs his hand over your hair and kisses your forehead.
"Sleep, amor. You're home now." He whispers, words warm against your skin. You lift your head to kiss him, slow and sweet, before settling against him again.
You've come home again, and you sleep deeply beneath the northern skies.
Rating - PG
Disclaimer - Jenna and Beka Jensen are mine, otherwise I'm just playing with them.
Pairing - Jensen/Cougar
Summary - You have returned home, to northern skies.
Author's Note - So this was kind of brought on because I wanted to write something happy. I did three fics for my 10_hurt_comfort challenge, and all of them were...emotionally draining to say the least. And I wanted to write something for marvinetta to read, as my last fic was not her cup of tea. So this is for you, hon! Hope you like. ^_^
Inspired by Dido's latest album, Safe Trip Home.
The sun is dying when you turn onto quiet Grafton Street. The van rattles past perfect little families and their white picket fences, completely unconcerned with a monster their own government had made with global reach and infinite resources. You list off their names in your head, fingers tapping an unsteady beat against your knee. When a hand, warm and comforting, covers yours, your fingers still immediately on your thigh. You don't have to look up to know who's hand it is, you just curl your fingers around it and squeeze like it's the only thing keeping you alive.
The van comes to a stop in front of a unspectacular home, nondescript and so terribly plain, but nothing has ever been more beautiful to you. Your heart pounds painfully in your chest. You're not ready for this. You don't know what to say, what you could possibly say to make something like this okay. You don't know if it can even be okay. All you know is that if it's not okay, you might just die.
A soft voice says your name, bringing you back to the present. His dark eyes are concerned, and you smile in reassurance, knowing that it doesn't quite reach your own eyes. He sees it, but says nothing, and you're grateful.
They're behind you, your adopted family, as you walk up to the front door. When you just stand in front of it for a moment, unable to lift your hand and actually ring the doorbell, you feel his hand brush your back. You know his touch like you know how to breathe. It gives you the courage to hit the button.
The bell chimes somewhere in the house, a voice responds, and your heartbeat quickens. You feel sweat bead on your hairline, and it chills in the waning New Hampshire evening. Your fingers begin tapping against the side of your leg, and this time no one stops you.
"Coming!" A musical voice calls from behind the door, and the familiar click of the doorknob turning makes your breath catch. The door swings open, much too soon, and she's there like a dream.
She's unchanged from the last time you saw her all those months ago. Her long hair, the same shade of blonde as your own, is golden in the sunset. Her blue eyes are darker, surrounded by shadows, and widen when recognition crosses her face. She's become pale, and you notice she's lost weight. It hurts to know you've done this to her. You still smile awkwardly, rubbing your sweaty palms on your pants.
"Hey, Jenna." Your voice is deceptively calm. She stares at you, blinking, then looks at those crowded behind you, skipping over the new face. Her mouth works, opening and closing, but she can't seem to find words. You're kind of proud you could do that to her.
"J-Jake?" She finally whispers, eyes coming back to your face. She reaches out hesitantly and you see her hand tremble in the air. After a moment you finally lift your own hand (you notice it trembles as well) and meet her palm with your own. She gasps at the contact, sharp in the heavy silence, and pulls you close, hugging you with the crushing strength of someone who has just seen the impossible. She is trying hard not to cry in your ear, instead whispering your name over and over. It takes you a minute to realize you're trying not to cry as well.
She's suddenly gone from your arms but it's okay because she's hugging the others and they're like her family too. She hugs him first, Cougar, your best friend and something else that you don't want to define right now but it's pretty damn close to love. She says something in his ear that makes him laugh, and you'd be jealous if it wasn't your sister.
Clay holds out his hand for a handshake, and she bats his hand aside, throwing her arms around him in a very Jensen way. He smiles and hugs her back. You see Aisha sizing her up, but you know if she makes even the slightest wrong move toward Jenna she'll have four pissed off operatives on her hands, and relax.
Last is Pooch, and she's talking in his ear, most likely about Jolene and the baby. You know she kept an eye on the woman while her husband was gone (dead) and it makes you smile. She can never not be a big sister.
When she draws back, taking all of you in, you see her tears spill over, but God, if she isn't glowing with happiness. Your chest swells, and things are so right and so perfect and so good that you're terrified it's all a dream.
"Mom? What's going on?"
You look into the house, frozen in place. She's taller and thinner, a little more gangly than the last time you saw her. You know from experience that she'll grow into her long limbs, but right now is the awkward in between phase. She's the spitting image of her mother at that age; at least if the photo albums are anything to go by.
The little girl smiles at you, youth and innocence and light, and it sort of feels like you've gone back in time to your own childhood. You force yourself to remember that she's your niece, not your sister that was suddenly turned eight years old by some science experiment gone awry.
"Uncle Jake!" She drops the soccer ball in her hands and runs at you full speed. You spread your arms and brace yourself for impact, but she's grown, and you find yourself on your butt with an armful of squealing, wriggling eight year old. She's asking questions, chatting a mile a minute, and they're questions you pray she'll forget, because you don't know how to answer them yet. She suddenly stops and looks up at you, face solemn. "We thought you were dead." Her blue eyes are wide and shining and not for the first time your heart hurts at the knowledge that you'd hurt your family so much with your deceit. You run your hand over her hair and as your palm cups the back of her head remember holding her in the hospital while your sister slept after 26 hours of labor, how her whole head had fit perfectly in the curve of your hand.
"I know, Beka. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You tell her honestly, because you've never treated her like a child. She's an old soul, wise beyond her years, and you know it.
She looks at you a minute, expression indecipherable, then smiles again. You see the echo of hurt in her eyes, and know that she had grieved hard for you. Perhaps she was still grieving up until the very moment she saw you. But she's pushing it aside and putting on a brave front, so you don't call her on it.
"I missed you, Beks." You tell her, hugging her to your chest again.
"We missed you, too."
It's not forgiveness, she may not be ready for that, but you'll wait, no matter how long it takes.
It's some time later when you step onto the back porch. There's still a glow of light on the horizon, illuminating the lines of houses and trees for a distance. Above that still-smoldering fire the sky is blue velvet intercut with diamond stars. You smile to yourself. You've been all over the world, and nothing makes you feel more at home than a northern sky. Everything just seems sharper and clearer up toward the top of the world without the over-powering heat to weigh down the air.
The sliding glass door rolls open and shut behind you, and your sister joins you at the railing, overlooking her small backyard. You stand in silence, just listening to her breathe. You know she has things to say; things she wanted to say the moment she opened the door, but they were things better said in private.
"What did you say to Cougar?" You finally ask, perhaps to break the silence. When you look over at her she's smiling her enigmatic little smile.
"I said that he didn't have you home in time for curfew like he promised."
You laugh. She knows. You'd been wondering if she knew since before Bolivia. The last time you'd been home, Cougar had come with, and you just got the nagging feeling when she looked at you two that she had put the whole picture together. But she said nothing, so you said nothing, and you let it go.
Then you nearly died. She thought you had died. There was no time for secrets anymore.
"Is it...so..." You're lost for words. This never happens. You finally sigh, gathering your courage once more. "You okay?" It's lame, but it's all you can manage. She looks at you with her "you're-such-an-idiot" look.
"Jacob," She only uses your proper first name with the look. You try hard not to smile. "He's family. They all are. Hell, I'm listed as Cougar's emergency contact."
"You are?" You didn't know that. She blinks, realizing what she'd said.
"Oh, yeah. Well, I found out he didn't have anyone listed the last time he was hospitalized, so I offered," She shrugs coolly, and you're filled with the urge to hug her. "I always worried about him when you guys were on leave. I didn't really trust that he'd call one of you if he got in trouble," She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes toward the heavens. "You boys always play so rough, and then me and Jolene gotta listen to you complain and make the chicken noodle soup." In the light coming through the door you see her blue eyes sparkle playfully. It also catches a glint of something metal on her neck that you recognize as a chain. Her hand comes up to touch it, and you realize she's not smiling anymore, her mouth in a tight line. You realize what it is she's wearing, and you take a step back.
"Shit. Sorry. I..uh..." You start, not sure what to even say. She pulls the necklace out from under her shirt and holds the two pieces of metal dangling from the chain in her hand. Both of you stare at the tags.
You can barely make out the raised letters of your own name, birthdate, serial number and religion. You didn't really want to put down a religion, but had finally just settled on Catholic for lack of anything better. You'd tried to convince the guy making your tag to put Satanist just for giggles, but he'd stared at you blandly until you muttered something he apparently approved of. That was when you discovered that the Army had pretty much no sense of humor.
Maybe that was a hint the universe was trying to give you to fucking run.
When you look at the other tag, you realize it's not a copy of your own. Instead it has Cougar's name and information. Your brow knits and you reach out to touch it with hesitant fingertips.
"Nobody else was gonna claim them." You finally look up at your sister, your hand dropping to your side. She's still staring at the metal in her palm, and you can tell she's trying not to cry. "I gave Beka the matching set. She hasn't taken them off since..." She doesn't have to say it; you know. Her hand closes around the dogtags and she brings her hand up to her chest. "What happened, Jake? They said....." She takes a breath, closing her eyes and trying to collect herself. Your hands move to hold her, bring her close, but you stop yourself. You know she needs her space in this moment. "They said so many terrible things about you guys. I knew they were lying, but why....why did they lie?" She finally opens her eyes and looks at you like she can decipher the answer on your own face. "What happened in Bolivia?"
You chew her question for a moment. You don't know how to answer this. You can't give her the whole truth, it'll put her in danger. But you can't tell her another lie. You just can't.
"We were supposed to die in that helicoptor. 25 kids were killed instead," You finally settle on. "We were betrayed; set up. And now we're hunting down the guy that did it."
It's simple, uncomplicated. She doesn't have to accept it. She stares at you for a moment, then finally nods. "Okay."
The door slides open, making you both jump. Cougar steps out into the night, smiling his little smile at your reactions. Both of you laugh a bit uneasily and you see her slip the dogtags back under her shirt. "He's all yours, Cougs," She tells him, patting his shoulder. "Try to keep it down, will you? I really don't want to have to explain anything to Beka in the morning." You feel yourself blush, and Cougar just tips his hat, smile widening. You punch him lightly in the arm, making Jenna roll her eyes. She sends a last wave over her shoulder before disappearing into the house, leaving you two alone. You shake your head, smiling in spite of yourself.
"She knows?" He finally asks you. You nod.
"Yep. Don't know how she figured it out, but that's Jenna for you."
You move over to the porch swing, sitting down with a sigh. He sits beside you, thighs and hips and shoulders in contact though the seat is big enough for you both. You don't complain, leaning into him, and he lifts his arm to curl around your shoulders. You tuck your bare feet under yourself and lean against him further, head nearly resting on his shoulder. You yawn, suddenly exhausted. He chuckles quietly next to your ear.
"Cansado, cariño?" He murmurs, slipping into his native tongue like he so often does in these quiet times. You smile at his familiar term of endearment.
"Si." You respond, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. He runs his hand over your hair and kisses your forehead.
"Sleep, amor. You're home now." He whispers, words warm against your skin. You lift your head to kiss him, slow and sweet, before settling against him again.
You've come home again, and you sleep deeply beneath the northern skies.