FIC: "The Effect in the Cause," James Watson/John Druitt, Sanctuary
Title: The Effect in the Cause
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Sanctuary
Pairing: John Druitt/James Watson, Helen Magnus/Helena G Wells/Helen Magnus (mentioned)
Word Count: 1,948
Category: AU, angst, romance
Spoilers: Tempus, Haunted
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
Rating: Explicit
Author's Note: A sort-of sequel, sort-of missing scene that goes with The Present is Theirs; The Future is Mine in which Helen Magnus decides to adjust the past to make a hopefully brighter future.
Summary: In which John broods on what might have been.
AO3 link
1899
James expected the library to be empty at that hour, but John was lounging in a wingback chair in front of the fireplace. Only his pinstripe trousers were visible, crossed at the knee with one long-fingered hand resting on the thigh. James poured himself a brandy before sitting in the opposite chair. John's tie was undone and his collar askew, his eyes heavy with a droop that implied James wasn't the first one to pour a drink that night. He finally looked away from the flames and focused on his friend.
"I would have thought you'd be with Helen. One of them, at any speed..."
"Both are with Ms. Wells at the moment. Exploring the differences a century has left on Helen's physique." He smiled. "At least that is their claim. I suspect more prurient purposes."
John nodded slowly. They had all become more adventurous with the arrival of Helen's older, wiser self. Once she overcame the mental block of preserving the timeline, she shared information about future relationships that she saw no true reason to forestall. She and James had carried on a flirtation for nearly fifteen years before finally going to bed with each other. Now that they knew it was inevitable, what purpose was there in waiting? Nigel was disappointed to learn the love of his life wouldn't even be born for another twenty years.
And of course they used their own personal Cassandra to predict more than fated bedfellows. They prevented so many deaths just by being in the right place at the right time to intervene. John and Nikola wore hooded cloaks to keep from being recognized during their acts of derring-do. They were confused why Helen took to calling them Clark and Bruce when they donned their disguises, but she swore it would make sense in a few decades.
And hindsight. Now that they knew the results of their choices, they could avoid pitfalls. James long ago decided he would not take an injection of Helen's blood to preserve his life. Now he knew that his decision led to his death at one hundred and sixty-one years of age, crumbling to dust in a dark and hidden chamber at Helen's hour of need. And the device he had used to preserve his youth had been used against them so often, had required so much effort from the others, that he couldn't in good conscience repeat that particular history. He'd asked Helen for an injection of her blood then and there.
Even now he could feel it coursing through his veins, mending miniscule wrongs that could have led to disease or heart failure. Now how long would he live? How long would Helen live, and Nikola? Their cheeky little song had invoked "the immortal Five." How right it suddenly seemed. Helen spoke often of the loneliness created by immortality. With luck, by taking her blood, he could relieve some of that isolation.
"One hundred years."
John's voice was weak, but there was a tremor of terror in it. James watched him silently, waiting for him to continue.
"Over one hundred years from now, Helen would discover the energy being that formed a symbiosis with me. A century of madness and insanity and how many lives lost at my blade?" He looked down into his tumbler and tightened his fingers. "I look back at the decade just past and try to imagine ten more decades stacking up on top of it. It's little wonder that my last act in Helen's time was one of sacrifice."
"You can't blame yourself. It was the energy being." The one currently stored within a closed loop device Nikola had created. Helen cobbled together something she called a defibrillator that removed the being from John's body.
John shook his head slowly. "It was a being of pure energy. Flame does not devour a home because of malicious intent. And an energy being does not drive a man to kill."
James considered the metaphor. "Helen told us of the being's original removal in twenty-ten." Even saying the date seemed impossible to him. The year 2000! The millennium! Helen had seen it and lived through it, spent another decade in what seemed now like an impossibly distant future. "The creature leapt from you and entered her Sanctuary's electrical systems. It acted maliciously toward them in that instance."
"Yes. After a century of sharing my mind and my body, it would go on the offensive, wouldn't it? Helen chose to believe that the energy being drove my madness. I fear that neither of us led the dance, we simply followed along in time to the music." He moved his hand in a slow rhythm and then dropped it to his knee. "I have always harbored dark thoughts, James. I have always been a boy of the shadows and now... I see how deeply into them I sank."
His eyes were dark and reflected the flame of the fireplace. James remembered the soaked, tortured soul who had often turned up on their doorstep after the Ripper murders. He was remembering, James knew, the times he had caused violence to Helen. And, to his shame, James thought of John's first encounter with the Helen of the future. The meek and cringing woman who, despite her cheek, was still very much a product of her age. The Helen nearing her second century was a warrior, strong and fearless, and she had taken John Druitt to the mats. It had been all he could do to keep from shouting "bravo!" when Helen told him of the encounter.
Now he stood and moved to his friend's chair. He knelt in front of him and touched John's hand. "What happened is in the past. And what would have happen shall now never be. You have been pulled back from the brink of madness and welcomed back into our home." His thumb stroked the back of John's hand, and John finally looked at him. "You've won, John. And now begins your long journey back to the good man we all know you were. And you've no need to walk the path alone."
"Thank you, James," John whispered.
James hesitated before he leaned forward. John started to press back against the chair but then acquiesced and tilted forward. Their lips met in a tentative kiss, their first since Oxford and the murders, and to James it felt like the sun bursting through clouds that had hidden it for days. He felt John's tongue against his lips but it rapidly retreated, and John uncrossed his legs to attain a more comfortable position.
On his knees, James moved his hands up the outside of John's thighs. He pressed his thumbs against the material to feel the familiar hollow of John's hips. He broke the kiss and looked down to observe as he moved his hand to the bulge at the front of John's trousers. John put a hand on the back of James' head, breathing heavily as James molded the pinstripe material to the bulge beneath, stroking with the palm of his hand until he couldn't take the teasing any longer.
He undid the buttons of John's trousers and John pressed back against the chair, closing his eyes as he calmed his breathing. James withdrew his friend's cock, running his thumb along the underside of the shaft as his forefinger curled over the top. He angled it up through the gaping material and lowered his head. He wet the pink tip with his tongue, teasing it with a light touch as he tightened his grip around the lowest extreme. He closed his lips around the head and used his other hand to open the fly wider, pulling John's balls free so that he could properly grip the base of him.
"It's been a while, old boy." John's voice was still strained, but the reason was different now. His hands rested on the arms of his chair, the fingers tense but not yet fisted.
"I think I still recall the basics. And if not, I'm a quick study."
He used his tongue to guide John's cock into his mouth, pulling back just before it reached his throat. John groaned quietly and James used his free hand to cup John's scrotum and gently massage them as he worked to take John deeper. He lifted his head with a gasp, his bottom lip connected to John's erection with a thin string of saliva that he broke with a brush of his hand. He stroked John's cock, squeezing the base so that it throbbed as he took the head into his mouth again.
"My dear," John groaned, and James closed his eyes. How long had it been since he'd heard that sound of desperate affection from these lips? How long he had craved it. He could hardly bear to read Doyle's trash for all the "my dear Watson" he had the characters bandy about. And now, to hear it properly... He moved his hand down to his lap and frantically worked the buttons, pulling out his cock and gripping it tightly to hold off the orgasm approaching much too fast for his liking.
John's orgasm was also approaching, the shaft throbbing against his tongue from the effort of holding back. He slid the loop of his fingers up John's length then back down, and he sucked gently on the head. John lifted slightly from the chair and pushed himself deeper into James' mouth moments before he came. Thick and warm, John coated James' tongue and the inside of his cheeks with thick ejaculate. James closed his eyes and savored the taste like a drunk who had fallen off the wagon, holding it in his mouth for as long as he dared before swallowing.
John put a hand on the back of James' head and leaned forward. James sat up and their lips met again, tongues no longer teasing and innocent as John grabbed the lapels of James' coat. John stood as he lifted James to his feet, and James allowed himself to be manhandled back against the ornate carving of the fireplace. John's hand flattened against his chest and pushed down, their eyes locked as John found and gripped James' cock.
"There has always been a darkness in me, James Watson," he growled, stroking without mercy. "A part of myself that I kept... well hidden... from the world. A curse... that was alleviated by you and my dear Helen."
"We will not abandon you this time, John," James promised with a sigh. "You're not the only one who must atone for sins of the other future. Let us help you, and we shall all be better for it."
John kissed James, and James succumbed to the pleasure. John cupped his hand to let the palm fill with James' come, finally breaking the kiss only to lick himself clean. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as he stepped away, and both men rearranged their clothing. John touched James' cheek and let his hand warm the smooth skin for a moment before he drew it away.
"Thank you, my dear."
"Of course. Shall we see if H.G. and the Helens are available?"
"No. As the latter Helen has told us, we shall have plenty of time together. Let them enjoy themselves." He put his hand on James' shoulder and guided him from the room. "You and I, on the other hand, have much to make up for. Shall we adjourn to my chambers?"
James smiled at John's mood, which was much improved from the dismal study he'd seen upon arriving. He nodded and allowed himself to be steered to wherever John planned to lead.
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Sanctuary
Pairing: John Druitt/James Watson, Helen Magnus/Helena G Wells/Helen Magnus (mentioned)
Word Count: 1,948
Category: AU, angst, romance
Spoilers: Tempus, Haunted
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
Rating: Explicit
Author's Note: A sort-of sequel, sort-of missing scene that goes with The Present is Theirs; The Future is Mine in which Helen Magnus decides to adjust the past to make a hopefully brighter future.
Summary: In which John broods on what might have been.
AO3 link
1899
James expected the library to be empty at that hour, but John was lounging in a wingback chair in front of the fireplace. Only his pinstripe trousers were visible, crossed at the knee with one long-fingered hand resting on the thigh. James poured himself a brandy before sitting in the opposite chair. John's tie was undone and his collar askew, his eyes heavy with a droop that implied James wasn't the first one to pour a drink that night. He finally looked away from the flames and focused on his friend.
"I would have thought you'd be with Helen. One of them, at any speed..."
"Both are with Ms. Wells at the moment. Exploring the differences a century has left on Helen's physique." He smiled. "At least that is their claim. I suspect more prurient purposes."
John nodded slowly. They had all become more adventurous with the arrival of Helen's older, wiser self. Once she overcame the mental block of preserving the timeline, she shared information about future relationships that she saw no true reason to forestall. She and James had carried on a flirtation for nearly fifteen years before finally going to bed with each other. Now that they knew it was inevitable, what purpose was there in waiting? Nigel was disappointed to learn the love of his life wouldn't even be born for another twenty years.
And of course they used their own personal Cassandra to predict more than fated bedfellows. They prevented so many deaths just by being in the right place at the right time to intervene. John and Nikola wore hooded cloaks to keep from being recognized during their acts of derring-do. They were confused why Helen took to calling them Clark and Bruce when they donned their disguises, but she swore it would make sense in a few decades.
And hindsight. Now that they knew the results of their choices, they could avoid pitfalls. James long ago decided he would not take an injection of Helen's blood to preserve his life. Now he knew that his decision led to his death at one hundred and sixty-one years of age, crumbling to dust in a dark and hidden chamber at Helen's hour of need. And the device he had used to preserve his youth had been used against them so often, had required so much effort from the others, that he couldn't in good conscience repeat that particular history. He'd asked Helen for an injection of her blood then and there.
Even now he could feel it coursing through his veins, mending miniscule wrongs that could have led to disease or heart failure. Now how long would he live? How long would Helen live, and Nikola? Their cheeky little song had invoked "the immortal Five." How right it suddenly seemed. Helen spoke often of the loneliness created by immortality. With luck, by taking her blood, he could relieve some of that isolation.
"One hundred years."
John's voice was weak, but there was a tremor of terror in it. James watched him silently, waiting for him to continue.
"Over one hundred years from now, Helen would discover the energy being that formed a symbiosis with me. A century of madness and insanity and how many lives lost at my blade?" He looked down into his tumbler and tightened his fingers. "I look back at the decade just past and try to imagine ten more decades stacking up on top of it. It's little wonder that my last act in Helen's time was one of sacrifice."
"You can't blame yourself. It was the energy being." The one currently stored within a closed loop device Nikola had created. Helen cobbled together something she called a defibrillator that removed the being from John's body.
John shook his head slowly. "It was a being of pure energy. Flame does not devour a home because of malicious intent. And an energy being does not drive a man to kill."
James considered the metaphor. "Helen told us of the being's original removal in twenty-ten." Even saying the date seemed impossible to him. The year 2000! The millennium! Helen had seen it and lived through it, spent another decade in what seemed now like an impossibly distant future. "The creature leapt from you and entered her Sanctuary's electrical systems. It acted maliciously toward them in that instance."
"Yes. After a century of sharing my mind and my body, it would go on the offensive, wouldn't it? Helen chose to believe that the energy being drove my madness. I fear that neither of us led the dance, we simply followed along in time to the music." He moved his hand in a slow rhythm and then dropped it to his knee. "I have always harbored dark thoughts, James. I have always been a boy of the shadows and now... I see how deeply into them I sank."
His eyes were dark and reflected the flame of the fireplace. James remembered the soaked, tortured soul who had often turned up on their doorstep after the Ripper murders. He was remembering, James knew, the times he had caused violence to Helen. And, to his shame, James thought of John's first encounter with the Helen of the future. The meek and cringing woman who, despite her cheek, was still very much a product of her age. The Helen nearing her second century was a warrior, strong and fearless, and she had taken John Druitt to the mats. It had been all he could do to keep from shouting "bravo!" when Helen told him of the encounter.
Now he stood and moved to his friend's chair. He knelt in front of him and touched John's hand. "What happened is in the past. And what would have happen shall now never be. You have been pulled back from the brink of madness and welcomed back into our home." His thumb stroked the back of John's hand, and John finally looked at him. "You've won, John. And now begins your long journey back to the good man we all know you were. And you've no need to walk the path alone."
"Thank you, James," John whispered.
James hesitated before he leaned forward. John started to press back against the chair but then acquiesced and tilted forward. Their lips met in a tentative kiss, their first since Oxford and the murders, and to James it felt like the sun bursting through clouds that had hidden it for days. He felt John's tongue against his lips but it rapidly retreated, and John uncrossed his legs to attain a more comfortable position.
On his knees, James moved his hands up the outside of John's thighs. He pressed his thumbs against the material to feel the familiar hollow of John's hips. He broke the kiss and looked down to observe as he moved his hand to the bulge at the front of John's trousers. John put a hand on the back of James' head, breathing heavily as James molded the pinstripe material to the bulge beneath, stroking with the palm of his hand until he couldn't take the teasing any longer.
He undid the buttons of John's trousers and John pressed back against the chair, closing his eyes as he calmed his breathing. James withdrew his friend's cock, running his thumb along the underside of the shaft as his forefinger curled over the top. He angled it up through the gaping material and lowered his head. He wet the pink tip with his tongue, teasing it with a light touch as he tightened his grip around the lowest extreme. He closed his lips around the head and used his other hand to open the fly wider, pulling John's balls free so that he could properly grip the base of him.
"It's been a while, old boy." John's voice was still strained, but the reason was different now. His hands rested on the arms of his chair, the fingers tense but not yet fisted.
"I think I still recall the basics. And if not, I'm a quick study."
He used his tongue to guide John's cock into his mouth, pulling back just before it reached his throat. John groaned quietly and James used his free hand to cup John's scrotum and gently massage them as he worked to take John deeper. He lifted his head with a gasp, his bottom lip connected to John's erection with a thin string of saliva that he broke with a brush of his hand. He stroked John's cock, squeezing the base so that it throbbed as he took the head into his mouth again.
"My dear," John groaned, and James closed his eyes. How long had it been since he'd heard that sound of desperate affection from these lips? How long he had craved it. He could hardly bear to read Doyle's trash for all the "my dear Watson" he had the characters bandy about. And now, to hear it properly... He moved his hand down to his lap and frantically worked the buttons, pulling out his cock and gripping it tightly to hold off the orgasm approaching much too fast for his liking.
John's orgasm was also approaching, the shaft throbbing against his tongue from the effort of holding back. He slid the loop of his fingers up John's length then back down, and he sucked gently on the head. John lifted slightly from the chair and pushed himself deeper into James' mouth moments before he came. Thick and warm, John coated James' tongue and the inside of his cheeks with thick ejaculate. James closed his eyes and savored the taste like a drunk who had fallen off the wagon, holding it in his mouth for as long as he dared before swallowing.
John put a hand on the back of James' head and leaned forward. James sat up and their lips met again, tongues no longer teasing and innocent as John grabbed the lapels of James' coat. John stood as he lifted James to his feet, and James allowed himself to be manhandled back against the ornate carving of the fireplace. John's hand flattened against his chest and pushed down, their eyes locked as John found and gripped James' cock.
"There has always been a darkness in me, James Watson," he growled, stroking without mercy. "A part of myself that I kept... well hidden... from the world. A curse... that was alleviated by you and my dear Helen."
"We will not abandon you this time, John," James promised with a sigh. "You're not the only one who must atone for sins of the other future. Let us help you, and we shall all be better for it."
John kissed James, and James succumbed to the pleasure. John cupped his hand to let the palm fill with James' come, finally breaking the kiss only to lick himself clean. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as he stepped away, and both men rearranged their clothing. John touched James' cheek and let his hand warm the smooth skin for a moment before he drew it away.
"Thank you, my dear."
"Of course. Shall we see if H.G. and the Helens are available?"
"No. As the latter Helen has told us, we shall have plenty of time together. Let them enjoy themselves." He put his hand on James' shoulder and guided him from the room. "You and I, on the other hand, have much to make up for. Shall we adjourn to my chambers?"
James smiled at John's mood, which was much improved from the dismal study he'd seen upon arriving. He nodded and allowed himself to be steered to wherever John planned to lead.