Fic: The Perfect Sky is Torn, G, Chuck/Kavanagh/OFC by
Title: The Perfect Sky is Torn
Author: inkscribe
Pairings: Chuck/Kavanagh/OFC
Warnings: refers to implied character death. Tissues strongly recommended! Completely work-safe … just sad.
Rating: G
Words: ~2,000
Spoilers: none
Locations: notmcshep, malesofatlantis, my LJ, other backup journals
Feedback: yes, please!
Summary: At the end of his days, gate technician Chuck reflects on love, life, and loss.
Author's Notes: Thank you to ankhmutes for the loan of her OFCs, the Athosian Traan and his lovely daughter, Kia. Thank you to both ankhmutes and garneteve for the story’s premise, and for allowing me to give them this bittersweet moment.
The title comes from the song Torn by Natalie Imbruglia.
Beta by mice1900. Read by a few others, all of whom made note of needing tissues by the end (see Warnings, above). Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.
Thank you also to ankhmutes, garneteve, nickespix, and pushkin666 for holding my hand the last few days. You’re right: writing can make someone feel better. And as the Blues guy on The Simpsons implied, it can also make other people feel worse. My apologies for the latter; I remain grateful for the former.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine; please don’t sue, we’ll both regret it in the morning.
Chuck felt Kia’s arms around him, her skin searing his with its vital warmth even as he finally stopped shivering.
“Come back to the tent, Father,” she said quietly. “It does no good to stand here.”
He blinked, finally tearing his eyes away from the vast blue blankness of the crisp autumn sky. He knew he was foolish to stand there like that, staring as though he could possibly bring any of them back, bring him back. The blank sky drew him back, though, over and over again, every day that he could manage to crawl from the tent, stumbling and shaking with each step, he would make his way to the cold embers of the fire and stand, looking into the infinite until someone retrieved him.
He felt Kia’s hand on his upper arm, felt her tug gently at him. “Come, Father,” she repeated. “You mustn’t get so chilled. I have your wrap, just inside.”
She took a small step, then relaxed visibly as Chuck allowed himself to be led by her soft touch. He smiled, a quiet, small smile, remembering her as a child, how she’d led him even then, her strength and assurance charming yet utterly sincere.
Sitting with his lover at an informal dinner with the Athosians, Chuck had been taken with the vitality of the young girl. Since his arrival in Atlantis, he had missed his own nephew more than he could imagine, and the girl’s playful manner captivated him, reminding him of those he loved and missed at home. To his surprise, at the end of the meal, she scooted away from her father’s arms and straight into Chuck’s, snuggling into his lap with a contented sigh.
He looked down into her wide eyes, almost like ancient amber in their soft colouring. She stared at him for several moments, then asked loudly:
“So are you sharing tents with my father tonight?”
He had stared at her then in shock, taken aback for a moment. Different people, different culture, he had reminded himself quickly. If he’d ever asked his own parents about their sex habits he probably would’ve been spanked, and spanked hard. Not that he ever would have. Then, as now, the thought of his parents in bed together made him shudder, just because.
Chuck felt rather than saw Kia come to a standstill next to him. “Father?” she asked quietly.
He reached a wizened hand to hers, patting it under his calloused palm. “I’m fine,” he reassured her. “Just lost in an old man’s thoughts.”
She gave him a gentle smile, one that reminded him even now of Teyla, though the two women were related by only distant family ties. “Oh?” she asked.
Now, just as then, he decided the best course of action was to be truthful. “The time when we first met,” he explained.
“Ah yes,” Kia replied, smiling fondly. She stepped in front of him, enveloping his now-frail body with her tall, strong one. “When I gained two new fathers.”
Again, Chuck was struck by the burning warmth of her skin, how she emanated life through every pore. Just like her father, he thought. Traan had seemed almost shockingly young to Chuck when they first met, hardly more than a teenager. He was maybe twenty by Earth-reckoning, yet already had Kia, four years old and full of more energy than two fully-charged ZedPMs. And by Earth standards, he was also already widowed.
Earth standards, Chuck thought, clinging to the warmth of Kia’s body. In truth, they weren’t standards on Earth, just those that Kav and him had grown up with in Canada and the States - marriage was something for two people, not three, five, or seven. Or even four. The Athosians were so … flexible … in their definition of family, an inheritance of the constant reality of cullings.
Chuck forced himself not to look back to the sky again. He felt Kia’s arms tighten around him, a subtle increase in pressure around his body that reminded him of Kav, Kav who always held him when he needed it. He closed his eyes, nestling into the safety of his daughter’s embrace.
”So are you sharing tents with my father tonight?”
He decided that the best course of action was to be truthful, and there was the problem. What to tell her? Chuck still didn’t entirely know how he felt about things, but much to his surprise, he was less and less bothered by the idea than when Kav had first broached the subject.
He swallowed, and he knew a blush came up on his face. “Ah, well …” he said to the girl relaxed in his arms. “I’m not sure.”
She kept blinking up at him with those clear amber eyes. “Not sure?” she asked, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “How can you be not sure?”
This time Chuck was sure he was blushing to the very ends of his toes. “In my culture, we don’t share tents the same way you do in yours,” he explained gently. “I - I’m honoured that your father invited Kav and me to share with him, bit it is a little bit … scary … for me.”
She continued to look at him, now openly surprised. “Scary? Why scary?”
Chuck sighed, and then smiled. “Well, it’s like you. Maybe sometimes you go to a new place, or try a new thing? Sometimes, new things are scary.”
Kia pouted a little. “My father isn’t scary. He is strong and handsome.”
Chuck laughed. “Yes, you’re right, Kia. He is strong and handsome.”
A breeze rattled the leaves of the nearby copse, and Kia shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of Chuck’s balding head. “You are strong and handsome,” she said softly, “but the winter winds come soon, and you need to stay warm. Come.”
Chuck smiled again, secretly pleased at her compliment, ridiculous though it was given his body, now shrunken and shaking as his organs slid into failure, one by one. In truth, he was unsurprised that she would say it again just as he remembered her father. Kia was always so sensitive to those around her; doubtless she could practically read his thoughts by now.
Chuck sat, looking into the little girl’s eyes, almost mesmerised by their clarity. Kav’s fingers were entwined with his, and he squeezed back tightly, trying to ground himself in the strength of his lover. He realised that more time probably wasn’t going to make a difference. More time wasn’t going to answer a single one of the unformed questions he had flowing through his mind ever since Kav told him the young Athosian man had approached, asking to be with them, to become part of their pack. Chuck smiled at Kia again, then glanced up at Kav, and then Traan, holding each man’s eyes for a moment before returning to hers.
“I … I think I’d like to share your father’s tent, Kia,” he said softly. “But … like I said, it is a little scary for me.”
Kia’s look was a mixture of pride at her father’s description and something akin to worry about Chuck being scared, so Chuck smiled broadly and added, “Though I’m certain such a strong and handsome man will help keep me from getting too scared, right?”
The little girl giggled, grinning happily at him.
Oh my God, Chuck thought. I just promised to share Traan’s tent. Later? Tonight? Sometime next week. He realised that this had been a long time coming, ever since Kav had mentioned Traan’s interest, but he didn’t expect to have this discussion during a communal meal, and with his newest - partner’s? lover’s? - little daughter.
He gripped Kav’s hand even more tightly, all the while smiling back at the little girl.
Step by careful step, Chuck walked with Kia back to the tent. The healer was right: he didn’t have long to go now. He could feel it inside, the change from the occasional twinge of pain to a constant thrum of ache, slow twisting death creeping through his body. Not for the first time he missed Doctor Beckett and the almost magical machines of Atlantis, and he blinked back tears as he thought of all that they’d lost in those terrible years. He stopped, his breath now harsh and gasping.
“Father?” Kia looked at him, her eyes full of love and gentle worry.
Chuck couldn’t do it - he couldn’t force himself to smile this time. “I miss them,” he whispered between gasps. “All of them.”
“I know,” she said, wrapping her arms around him again, and again burning Chuck with her intense warmth. “We all do.”
Chuck buried his head against her chest, unable to breathe deeply enough for the sob within him to escape. He could taste the sharpness of the coming autumn on the back of his tongue, yet he was unable to draw deep of the clean, sustaining air.
“We had a good life, Father,” he heard her murmur. He felt her stroking his back, comforting him, soothing his fears and sadness. So much like Kav, he thought. He sucked a sudden, deep breath and the sob within him burst forth into the cold morning air. They stood together then, long uncounted moments, Chuck crying softly against his daughter’s chest as she continued to stroke his back.
We did have a good life, he admitted to himself. They loved and laughed and made a family, out here in a galaxy that wasn’t even their own. They fought for their home, and when the city fell, they fought for their lives. Through it all, Kav and Traan and Kia and Chuck managed to stay together, stay alive - even regroup and join the little ragtag band of displaced Lanteans and friends, their tiny family establishing themselves among other survivors.
“I don’t regret it,” Chuck croaked.
He felt Kia shift slightly, then heard her voice, warm and full. “I know you don’t. When I first met you, I knew you would love my father.”
“Yes, I think you did,” he agreed. “You were wise beyond your years.” And Traan was wise beyond his, too, Chuck added silently. So wise, so strong. Laughing. Loving.
Kia was silent for a few moments, then spoke again. “He is almost gone now,” she confessed. “Please, come inside.”
Chuck was surprised by the catch in his throat. “Already?” He felt conflicted, knowing his lover was there, dying centimetre by centimetre, but not yet, not yet. Chuck wasn’t ready to say goodbye; he wasn’t ready to go inside. He turned his face again to the sky, blinking back the tears that welled there anew. He should be here, with us, Chuck thought. He could only hope that he was dead, consumed quickly and without a second thought, not drifting through restless dreams in a Wraith larder. The vastness there threatened to swallow Chuck whole, and he cried out softly, feeling his own pain inside open again, raw and wide as the sky above.
They had a daughter who was strong and proud and full of life. They had lived long and full lives: watched grandchildren come into the worlds, saw season chase season around the planets they traversed. Despite everything, they were only torn apart in their final, dying days. Chuck’s hands shook: it should have been enough. He shouldn’t still want more.
“Please?” Kia pleaded, her voice soft but the need strong.
Chuck looked at her, smiling through his tears. “Yes, let’s go inside. He needs me.” He could do it. Chuck could hold his lover tightly, telling the body that remained that it was loved, even if the mind therein was long gone. Then he could take his own final breaths, knowing his family to be well and whole, though he would not be there to see them again.
Kia lifted the flap, following Chuck into the welcoming warmth within.
Author: inkscribe
Pairings: Chuck/Kavanagh/OFC
Warnings: refers to implied character death. Tissues strongly recommended! Completely work-safe … just sad.
Rating: G
Words: ~2,000
Spoilers: none
Locations: notmcshep, malesofatlantis, my LJ, other backup journals
Feedback: yes, please!
Summary: At the end of his days, gate technician Chuck reflects on love, life, and loss.
Author's Notes: Thank you to ankhmutes for the loan of her OFCs, the Athosian Traan and his lovely daughter, Kia. Thank you to both ankhmutes and garneteve for the story’s premise, and for allowing me to give them this bittersweet moment.
The title comes from the song Torn by Natalie Imbruglia.
Beta by mice1900. Read by a few others, all of whom made note of needing tissues by the end (see Warnings, above). Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.
Thank you also to ankhmutes, garneteve, nickespix, and pushkin666 for holding my hand the last few days. You’re right: writing can make someone feel better. And as the Blues guy on The Simpsons implied, it can also make other people feel worse. My apologies for the latter; I remain grateful for the former.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine; please don’t sue, we’ll both regret it in the morning.
Chuck felt Kia’s arms around him, her skin searing his with its vital warmth even as he finally stopped shivering.
“Come back to the tent, Father,” she said quietly. “It does no good to stand here.”
He blinked, finally tearing his eyes away from the vast blue blankness of the crisp autumn sky. He knew he was foolish to stand there like that, staring as though he could possibly bring any of them back, bring him back. The blank sky drew him back, though, over and over again, every day that he could manage to crawl from the tent, stumbling and shaking with each step, he would make his way to the cold embers of the fire and stand, looking into the infinite until someone retrieved him.
He felt Kia’s hand on his upper arm, felt her tug gently at him. “Come, Father,” she repeated. “You mustn’t get so chilled. I have your wrap, just inside.”
She took a small step, then relaxed visibly as Chuck allowed himself to be led by her soft touch. He smiled, a quiet, small smile, remembering her as a child, how she’d led him even then, her strength and assurance charming yet utterly sincere.
Sitting with his lover at an informal dinner with the Athosians, Chuck had been taken with the vitality of the young girl. Since his arrival in Atlantis, he had missed his own nephew more than he could imagine, and the girl’s playful manner captivated him, reminding him of those he loved and missed at home. To his surprise, at the end of the meal, she scooted away from her father’s arms and straight into Chuck’s, snuggling into his lap with a contented sigh.
He looked down into her wide eyes, almost like ancient amber in their soft colouring. She stared at him for several moments, then asked loudly:
“So are you sharing tents with my father tonight?”
He had stared at her then in shock, taken aback for a moment. Different people, different culture, he had reminded himself quickly. If he’d ever asked his own parents about their sex habits he probably would’ve been spanked, and spanked hard. Not that he ever would have. Then, as now, the thought of his parents in bed together made him shudder, just because.
Chuck felt rather than saw Kia come to a standstill next to him. “Father?” she asked quietly.
He reached a wizened hand to hers, patting it under his calloused palm. “I’m fine,” he reassured her. “Just lost in an old man’s thoughts.”
She gave him a gentle smile, one that reminded him even now of Teyla, though the two women were related by only distant family ties. “Oh?” she asked.
Now, just as then, he decided the best course of action was to be truthful. “The time when we first met,” he explained.
“Ah yes,” Kia replied, smiling fondly. She stepped in front of him, enveloping his now-frail body with her tall, strong one. “When I gained two new fathers.”
Again, Chuck was struck by the burning warmth of her skin, how she emanated life through every pore. Just like her father, he thought. Traan had seemed almost shockingly young to Chuck when they first met, hardly more than a teenager. He was maybe twenty by Earth-reckoning, yet already had Kia, four years old and full of more energy than two fully-charged ZedPMs. And by Earth standards, he was also already widowed.
Earth standards, Chuck thought, clinging to the warmth of Kia’s body. In truth, they weren’t standards on Earth, just those that Kav and him had grown up with in Canada and the States - marriage was something for two people, not three, five, or seven. Or even four. The Athosians were so … flexible … in their definition of family, an inheritance of the constant reality of cullings.
Chuck forced himself not to look back to the sky again. He felt Kia’s arms tighten around him, a subtle increase in pressure around his body that reminded him of Kav, Kav who always held him when he needed it. He closed his eyes, nestling into the safety of his daughter’s embrace.
”So are you sharing tents with my father tonight?”
He decided that the best course of action was to be truthful, and there was the problem. What to tell her? Chuck still didn’t entirely know how he felt about things, but much to his surprise, he was less and less bothered by the idea than when Kav had first broached the subject.
He swallowed, and he knew a blush came up on his face. “Ah, well …” he said to the girl relaxed in his arms. “I’m not sure.”
She kept blinking up at him with those clear amber eyes. “Not sure?” she asked, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “How can you be not sure?”
This time Chuck was sure he was blushing to the very ends of his toes. “In my culture, we don’t share tents the same way you do in yours,” he explained gently. “I - I’m honoured that your father invited Kav and me to share with him, bit it is a little bit … scary … for me.”
She continued to look at him, now openly surprised. “Scary? Why scary?”
Chuck sighed, and then smiled. “Well, it’s like you. Maybe sometimes you go to a new place, or try a new thing? Sometimes, new things are scary.”
Kia pouted a little. “My father isn’t scary. He is strong and handsome.”
Chuck laughed. “Yes, you’re right, Kia. He is strong and handsome.”
A breeze rattled the leaves of the nearby copse, and Kia shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of Chuck’s balding head. “You are strong and handsome,” she said softly, “but the winter winds come soon, and you need to stay warm. Come.”
Chuck smiled again, secretly pleased at her compliment, ridiculous though it was given his body, now shrunken and shaking as his organs slid into failure, one by one. In truth, he was unsurprised that she would say it again just as he remembered her father. Kia was always so sensitive to those around her; doubtless she could practically read his thoughts by now.
Chuck sat, looking into the little girl’s eyes, almost mesmerised by their clarity. Kav’s fingers were entwined with his, and he squeezed back tightly, trying to ground himself in the strength of his lover. He realised that more time probably wasn’t going to make a difference. More time wasn’t going to answer a single one of the unformed questions he had flowing through his mind ever since Kav told him the young Athosian man had approached, asking to be with them, to become part of their pack. Chuck smiled at Kia again, then glanced up at Kav, and then Traan, holding each man’s eyes for a moment before returning to hers.
“I … I think I’d like to share your father’s tent, Kia,” he said softly. “But … like I said, it is a little scary for me.”
Kia’s look was a mixture of pride at her father’s description and something akin to worry about Chuck being scared, so Chuck smiled broadly and added, “Though I’m certain such a strong and handsome man will help keep me from getting too scared, right?”
The little girl giggled, grinning happily at him.
Oh my God, Chuck thought. I just promised to share Traan’s tent. Later? Tonight? Sometime next week. He realised that this had been a long time coming, ever since Kav had mentioned Traan’s interest, but he didn’t expect to have this discussion during a communal meal, and with his newest - partner’s? lover’s? - little daughter.
He gripped Kav’s hand even more tightly, all the while smiling back at the little girl.
Step by careful step, Chuck walked with Kia back to the tent. The healer was right: he didn’t have long to go now. He could feel it inside, the change from the occasional twinge of pain to a constant thrum of ache, slow twisting death creeping through his body. Not for the first time he missed Doctor Beckett and the almost magical machines of Atlantis, and he blinked back tears as he thought of all that they’d lost in those terrible years. He stopped, his breath now harsh and gasping.
“Father?” Kia looked at him, her eyes full of love and gentle worry.
Chuck couldn’t do it - he couldn’t force himself to smile this time. “I miss them,” he whispered between gasps. “All of them.”
“I know,” she said, wrapping her arms around him again, and again burning Chuck with her intense warmth. “We all do.”
Chuck buried his head against her chest, unable to breathe deeply enough for the sob within him to escape. He could taste the sharpness of the coming autumn on the back of his tongue, yet he was unable to draw deep of the clean, sustaining air.
“We had a good life, Father,” he heard her murmur. He felt her stroking his back, comforting him, soothing his fears and sadness. So much like Kav, he thought. He sucked a sudden, deep breath and the sob within him burst forth into the cold morning air. They stood together then, long uncounted moments, Chuck crying softly against his daughter’s chest as she continued to stroke his back.
We did have a good life, he admitted to himself. They loved and laughed and made a family, out here in a galaxy that wasn’t even their own. They fought for their home, and when the city fell, they fought for their lives. Through it all, Kav and Traan and Kia and Chuck managed to stay together, stay alive - even regroup and join the little ragtag band of displaced Lanteans and friends, their tiny family establishing themselves among other survivors.
“I don’t regret it,” Chuck croaked.
He felt Kia shift slightly, then heard her voice, warm and full. “I know you don’t. When I first met you, I knew you would love my father.”
“Yes, I think you did,” he agreed. “You were wise beyond your years.” And Traan was wise beyond his, too, Chuck added silently. So wise, so strong. Laughing. Loving.
Kia was silent for a few moments, then spoke again. “He is almost gone now,” she confessed. “Please, come inside.”
Chuck was surprised by the catch in his throat. “Already?” He felt conflicted, knowing his lover was there, dying centimetre by centimetre, but not yet, not yet. Chuck wasn’t ready to say goodbye; he wasn’t ready to go inside. He turned his face again to the sky, blinking back the tears that welled there anew. He should be here, with us, Chuck thought. He could only hope that he was dead, consumed quickly and without a second thought, not drifting through restless dreams in a Wraith larder. The vastness there threatened to swallow Chuck whole, and he cried out softly, feeling his own pain inside open again, raw and wide as the sky above.
They had a daughter who was strong and proud and full of life. They had lived long and full lives: watched grandchildren come into the worlds, saw season chase season around the planets they traversed. Despite everything, they were only torn apart in their final, dying days. Chuck’s hands shook: it should have been enough. He shouldn’t still want more.
“Please?” Kia pleaded, her voice soft but the need strong.
Chuck looked at her, smiling through his tears. “Yes, let’s go inside. He needs me.” He could do it. Chuck could hold his lover tightly, telling the body that remained that it was loved, even if the mind therein was long gone. Then he could take his own final breaths, knowing his family to be well and whole, though he would not be there to see them again.
Kia lifted the flap, following Chuck into the welcoming warmth within.