Canton fic: Validation
So I'm watching the new episodes of Doctor Who and I'm suddenly bombarded by bunnies thanks to one Canton Everett Delaware III *points to icon* I don't know what it is about him, but he's definitely a BAMF and I hope he comes back soon. Like...tomorrow. In fact, Amy & Rory can stay home and make babies and Canton can travel with The Doctor for awhile. I'd be perfectly happy with that. :)
Title: Validation
Author: Khylara
Fandom: Doctor Who Reboot
Spoilers: Vaguely for 6.01 & 6.02 - if you haven’t seen it, it might not make much sense. (Then again, it might not make much sense even if you have…)
Rating: PG 13 for m/m kissing & affection
Word Count: 2423
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. I promise to put them back when I’m done.
Synopsis: Canton’s husband reflects.
Author’s Note: I was going to use The Stonewall Riots as the basis for Canton’s personal epiphany but when I checked the dates I found out that Canton first met The Doctor in April 1969. Stonewall was the end of June. They were stepping up the bar raids and publicizing them more, though, so this is still plausible.
There’s a wedding certificate on our wall, right over the fireplace mantle. It has pride of place in our little house and it should - it’s been there for over 40 years, long before phrases like freedom to marry, domestic partnerships and same-sex civil unions were even thought of. The ink on the signatures - his mouthful of a name and my gasp of one - are faded with time and age, but considering we both are as well…it’s sort of fitting.
I catch Canton staring at it sometimes, like he still can’t believe it’s hanging there even after all these years. Which is funny since he’s the one who carried it home, carefully bundled up in three hotel room towels and his jacket so the glass framing it wouldn’t break and cradled in his lap the entire way. And he had been the one to drive the nail in and carefully hang it on the wall. I had offered to do it - my husband is a pretty good shot with a gun but a complete klutz with tools - but he had insisted. It had taken him over an hour to hammer in that one nail - it’s something we laugh about now.
But that night…the minute he had finished and climbed off the chair we had fallen into each other’s arms and broken down. Which wasn’t surprising - it had been a long, exhausting day that had begun at dawn with the two of us dressed in our best suits standing in front of a Justice Of The Peace in the Oval Office with Nixon looking on as a witness. The rings exchanged, the vows spoken, the lightest of kisses brushed against lips - even though it had been the culmination of a long cherished dream for both of us, we hadn’t dared to do more. Nixon was still the President after all; we hadn’t wanted to embarrass him any more than he obviously was.
He had warmed up a little after the Justice Of The Peace had gone, though. After signing the certificate with a flourish he had shared a glass of champagne with us, giving us both his best wishes for a happy future together while he shook our hands. That had surprised me a little; he hadn’t struck me as a warm person or a particularly liberal one, either. But then the entire thing had shocked me to speechlessness; I had barely been able to say “I do”.
Because with that marriage certificate had been two bulging file folders of papers - legal documents of every kind imaginable protecting both of us from just about anything anyone could think of. Not much on my side of things - I was an only child and my parents were long gone - but Canton’s family was full of vindictive, racist bastards who had disowned him the moment after they had found out who he had chosen to love. But he still had money, assets I could only dream about thanks to a generous FBI salary and careful investing. What was to stop those people from reclaiming him and pushing me aside, saying he was a pervert and a freak before locking him up and tossing away the key?
Those papers, it turned out. Those mounds and mounds of papers that we had spent the better part of two days signing and that now bulge out of a filing cabinet in Canton’s office. That’s one of the reasons no one can say anything bad about Nixon in our house; because in spite of everything else, he had been the one to cut through all the red tape and push those papers through. They’ve been a godsend over the years; I don’t know how many times in our years together that those papers have saved one or both of our asses, but they have and they still do.
But none of them are as important as the one hanging on our wall.
And we could’ve lived without it, really. It would have been hard, but a lot of our friends had managed and we could’ve just the same. A life together was all the both of us really wanted. If we had been blessed with just that, it would have been fine. Lovely, even.
And yet…without that piece of paper, that legal stamp of approval on our love and commitment to each other…it wouldn’t have felt right.
Those had been Canton’s exact words the day he had come home from work with a pink slip in his hand and a “problem with authority” label on his FBI file. It had been seeing television coverage of yet another raid on a seedy little gay bar downtown that had given him the courage in the end, he told me that night when I had asked why. One of the drag queens being dragged out had slapped the cop manhandling him right in the face with his purse and had gotten beaten down with more than a dozen nightsticks for his defiance. It had been a revelation for him, listening to them yelling that they had the right to live their lives and love whoever they wanted. It had made him admit to a few things, the main one being that he had been lying to everyone - to himself most of all - for far too long and he wasn’t going to do it anymore. And if a bunch of tacky drag queens had the balls to stand up to the cops and be proud of who they were by demanding to be treated just like everyone else, then so did he.
Our argument had been loud and long that night, with me saying I wasn’t worth losing his job, his career over and him saying I was the one thing that made his life worth living. The one person that made him happy. What was a job - even one he loved - compared to being happy? And if he was going to be happy, then it was going to be on his terms and not anybody else’s. It had gone on from there; we came pretty close to throwing things at each other that night and much too close to ending it all because of the one thing in our lives we weren’t willing to compromise on, that one silly little dream.
But then his luck had suddenly changed; to this day I’m not sure how or why or what happened. I’ve heard bits and pieces over the years, held him through the nightmares he still sometimes gets because of it, but I don’t know the whole story. And I’m fine with that; if he wanted me to know, then he would’ve told me even if he technically couldn’t for security reasons. I don’t need to know what he did; I know he loved me enough to do whatever it was, and that’s okay with me.
I watched him for a moment as he continued to stare at the certificate on the wall, the bright blue envelope that had been in today’s mail still being held tightly in his grasp. I had assumed it was another wedding invitation - with more and more states jumping on the bandwagon and making civil unions legal, a lot of our friends were following our example. Bright blue was a little unconventional for weddings, but when it comes to gay men and marriage, not much we do is conventional.
Deep down, though, I knew it wasn’t. I could tell by the look on my husband’s face.
My husband. Those two words echoed in my head for a moment and an unexpected lump formed in my throat. Canton Everett Delaware III had been my husband for over 40 years and he was still a handsome man in my eyes. His dark hair was all gone now and he had a bit of a belly thanks to my slow cooked baby back ribs and my grandmother’s potato salad recipe, but he was still everything I had ever wanted and more. He was still the man I loved.
But the look on his face was beginning to worry me a little; it reminded me too much of how he had been before whatever had happened to him happened and his luck changed. So I went over to him and slid my arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. “Canton?”
One of his hands slid over mine. “I’m all right.”
“Are you?” I couldn’t help the doubt that colored my voice. “You’ve been staring at our certificate ever since you got that.” I indicated the bright blue envelope he was still holding onto with a nod. “Bad news from someone?”
“I’m not quite sure.” He looked at it for a moment before continuing. “It’s from The Doctor.”
“Doctor?” I was confused; he had never mentioned a doctor before. “Doctor who?”
He chuckled a little. “I don’t know that myself. Classified, she said.” He paused. “With the way he was…she probably didn’t know, either.”
Now I was really confused. “You’re not making a lot of sense, love,” I said, my brow furrowing. Just then a thought occurred to me. “Does he have something to do with whatever happened to you, when you were working with Nixon?” I couldn’t help frowning; if this mysterious Doctor had been the cause of Canton’s nightmares…
He nodded. “It’s been so long since I last saw him. I honestly never thought I would again.” He turned his head enough to look at me. “I’m surprised you never asked me about all of it.”
I shrugged. “I knew you would tell me if you really needed to and I can understand about security.” I tightened my hold on him just a little. “And from your nightmares…I could tell it was bad.”
“Parts of it were. Strange, more than anything. And a little scary.” He smiled a little. “But there were good parts, too. The Doctor…Amy and Rory…Dr. Song…they were good people.” He handed me the envelope. “Read it.”
I took it from him reluctantly. “Are you sure?” When he nodded, I pulled out the blue-edged card and began to read. There wasn’t much; map references to a location of some sort, a day and time, which turned out to be for later today. What had been scribbled on the back was more interesting - and just as confusing.
Canton -
When you come, bring a full can of gasoline.
River will know what to do with it.
I hope the two of you have been happy together.
- The Doctor
I put the card back into it’s envelope and handed it back to him. “He knew about us?”
“He knew I wanted to get married. He was the one who said something to Nixon about the whole thing. Whether he knew about you specifically…well, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had.” A thoughtful look suddenly appeared on his face as he continued to finger the envelope. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask me to come with him. I think…if I hadn’t had you…I think I would have if he had offered. I don’t know.”
There was a wistful note in his voice, one I had never heard before. Swallowing hard, I asked the one question I really didn’t want the answer to. “Did you love him?”
To my immense relief, he shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. He was…I think it’s safe to say that I’ve never met anyone like him and probably won’t ever again.” He thought for a moment. “He was…odd. That’s best word I can come up with to describe him. Like I said…a good man, but I’m not sure I could’ve dealt with that amount of odd on a regular basis.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Canton’s pretty calm and conservative deep down - a regular straight arrow in most ways. When he had been younger, though, he had been much worse; some of my own little quirks had driven him crazy. “And now he needs you for something,” I finished, trying to wrap my head around all this. “Something that involves a full can of gasoline and you going God only knows where.”
He shrugged. “See what I mean? Odd. He asked for a full SWAT team and a fez when I met him.” He paused. “And I looked the map reference up. It’s actually not too far from here. I’d be back in a couple of hours.” Canton smiled. “That’s if things don’t get complicated.”
Somehow I had the feeling that things usually got complicated when whoever this Doctor was showed up, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I asked, “And if it does?”
“Then I’ll call.” He patted his shirt pocket, where the videophone I had bought him for his birthday was tucked away. Seeing the uncertain look on my face, his own softened. “I know you don’t like it. I don’t either. I’ve had a bad feeling about this whole thing since the moment I saw that envelope in the mail box this morning. But I have to go.”
“Why?” That was the one thing I couldn’t understand about all this. “If you’re having so many doubts about this, then why do you have to go?”
He was quiet for a long moment before he took my hands in his, his thumb brushing over my wedding ring. “Because if it hadn’t been for him…we wouldn’t have this.”
I sighed, all of my arguments shot down in that one instant. “Then go,” I said softly, cupped his face in my hands. “Go and help him if you can. It’s the least we can do.” I suddenly smiled. “Just remember who you’re married to. No running off to God knows where with strange men.”
He smiled at the teasing. “I already have a strange man. I don’t think I could deal with another one even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.” Taking my hands, he twined our fingers together and brought them up to his lips, kissing them. “I love you.”
Not satisfied with that, I pulled him into a hug. “I love you, too,” I breathed into his ear right before I kissed him.
*
It was late when he finally came home, smelling of smoke and gasoline and with tears running down his lined cheeks. I didn’t say anything; I simply pulled him into my arms and let him cry for the man who had given us the one thing we had dreamed of, the one thing we probably never would have managed on our own.
Validation.
Title: Validation
Author: Khylara
Fandom: Doctor Who Reboot
Spoilers: Vaguely for 6.01 & 6.02 - if you haven’t seen it, it might not make much sense. (Then again, it might not make much sense even if you have…)
Rating: PG 13 for m/m kissing & affection
Word Count: 2423
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. I promise to put them back when I’m done.
Synopsis: Canton’s husband reflects.
Author’s Note: I was going to use The Stonewall Riots as the basis for Canton’s personal epiphany but when I checked the dates I found out that Canton first met The Doctor in April 1969. Stonewall was the end of June. They were stepping up the bar raids and publicizing them more, though, so this is still plausible.
There’s a wedding certificate on our wall, right over the fireplace mantle. It has pride of place in our little house and it should - it’s been there for over 40 years, long before phrases like freedom to marry, domestic partnerships and same-sex civil unions were even thought of. The ink on the signatures - his mouthful of a name and my gasp of one - are faded with time and age, but considering we both are as well…it’s sort of fitting.
I catch Canton staring at it sometimes, like he still can’t believe it’s hanging there even after all these years. Which is funny since he’s the one who carried it home, carefully bundled up in three hotel room towels and his jacket so the glass framing it wouldn’t break and cradled in his lap the entire way. And he had been the one to drive the nail in and carefully hang it on the wall. I had offered to do it - my husband is a pretty good shot with a gun but a complete klutz with tools - but he had insisted. It had taken him over an hour to hammer in that one nail - it’s something we laugh about now.
But that night…the minute he had finished and climbed off the chair we had fallen into each other’s arms and broken down. Which wasn’t surprising - it had been a long, exhausting day that had begun at dawn with the two of us dressed in our best suits standing in front of a Justice Of The Peace in the Oval Office with Nixon looking on as a witness. The rings exchanged, the vows spoken, the lightest of kisses brushed against lips - even though it had been the culmination of a long cherished dream for both of us, we hadn’t dared to do more. Nixon was still the President after all; we hadn’t wanted to embarrass him any more than he obviously was.
He had warmed up a little after the Justice Of The Peace had gone, though. After signing the certificate with a flourish he had shared a glass of champagne with us, giving us both his best wishes for a happy future together while he shook our hands. That had surprised me a little; he hadn’t struck me as a warm person or a particularly liberal one, either. But then the entire thing had shocked me to speechlessness; I had barely been able to say “I do”.
Because with that marriage certificate had been two bulging file folders of papers - legal documents of every kind imaginable protecting both of us from just about anything anyone could think of. Not much on my side of things - I was an only child and my parents were long gone - but Canton’s family was full of vindictive, racist bastards who had disowned him the moment after they had found out who he had chosen to love. But he still had money, assets I could only dream about thanks to a generous FBI salary and careful investing. What was to stop those people from reclaiming him and pushing me aside, saying he was a pervert and a freak before locking him up and tossing away the key?
Those papers, it turned out. Those mounds and mounds of papers that we had spent the better part of two days signing and that now bulge out of a filing cabinet in Canton’s office. That’s one of the reasons no one can say anything bad about Nixon in our house; because in spite of everything else, he had been the one to cut through all the red tape and push those papers through. They’ve been a godsend over the years; I don’t know how many times in our years together that those papers have saved one or both of our asses, but they have and they still do.
But none of them are as important as the one hanging on our wall.
And we could’ve lived without it, really. It would have been hard, but a lot of our friends had managed and we could’ve just the same. A life together was all the both of us really wanted. If we had been blessed with just that, it would have been fine. Lovely, even.
And yet…without that piece of paper, that legal stamp of approval on our love and commitment to each other…it wouldn’t have felt right.
Those had been Canton’s exact words the day he had come home from work with a pink slip in his hand and a “problem with authority” label on his FBI file. It had been seeing television coverage of yet another raid on a seedy little gay bar downtown that had given him the courage in the end, he told me that night when I had asked why. One of the drag queens being dragged out had slapped the cop manhandling him right in the face with his purse and had gotten beaten down with more than a dozen nightsticks for his defiance. It had been a revelation for him, listening to them yelling that they had the right to live their lives and love whoever they wanted. It had made him admit to a few things, the main one being that he had been lying to everyone - to himself most of all - for far too long and he wasn’t going to do it anymore. And if a bunch of tacky drag queens had the balls to stand up to the cops and be proud of who they were by demanding to be treated just like everyone else, then so did he.
Our argument had been loud and long that night, with me saying I wasn’t worth losing his job, his career over and him saying I was the one thing that made his life worth living. The one person that made him happy. What was a job - even one he loved - compared to being happy? And if he was going to be happy, then it was going to be on his terms and not anybody else’s. It had gone on from there; we came pretty close to throwing things at each other that night and much too close to ending it all because of the one thing in our lives we weren’t willing to compromise on, that one silly little dream.
But then his luck had suddenly changed; to this day I’m not sure how or why or what happened. I’ve heard bits and pieces over the years, held him through the nightmares he still sometimes gets because of it, but I don’t know the whole story. And I’m fine with that; if he wanted me to know, then he would’ve told me even if he technically couldn’t for security reasons. I don’t need to know what he did; I know he loved me enough to do whatever it was, and that’s okay with me.
I watched him for a moment as he continued to stare at the certificate on the wall, the bright blue envelope that had been in today’s mail still being held tightly in his grasp. I had assumed it was another wedding invitation - with more and more states jumping on the bandwagon and making civil unions legal, a lot of our friends were following our example. Bright blue was a little unconventional for weddings, but when it comes to gay men and marriage, not much we do is conventional.
Deep down, though, I knew it wasn’t. I could tell by the look on my husband’s face.
My husband. Those two words echoed in my head for a moment and an unexpected lump formed in my throat. Canton Everett Delaware III had been my husband for over 40 years and he was still a handsome man in my eyes. His dark hair was all gone now and he had a bit of a belly thanks to my slow cooked baby back ribs and my grandmother’s potato salad recipe, but he was still everything I had ever wanted and more. He was still the man I loved.
But the look on his face was beginning to worry me a little; it reminded me too much of how he had been before whatever had happened to him happened and his luck changed. So I went over to him and slid my arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. “Canton?”
One of his hands slid over mine. “I’m all right.”
“Are you?” I couldn’t help the doubt that colored my voice. “You’ve been staring at our certificate ever since you got that.” I indicated the bright blue envelope he was still holding onto with a nod. “Bad news from someone?”
“I’m not quite sure.” He looked at it for a moment before continuing. “It’s from The Doctor.”
“Doctor?” I was confused; he had never mentioned a doctor before. “Doctor who?”
He chuckled a little. “I don’t know that myself. Classified, she said.” He paused. “With the way he was…she probably didn’t know, either.”
Now I was really confused. “You’re not making a lot of sense, love,” I said, my brow furrowing. Just then a thought occurred to me. “Does he have something to do with whatever happened to you, when you were working with Nixon?” I couldn’t help frowning; if this mysterious Doctor had been the cause of Canton’s nightmares…
He nodded. “It’s been so long since I last saw him. I honestly never thought I would again.” He turned his head enough to look at me. “I’m surprised you never asked me about all of it.”
I shrugged. “I knew you would tell me if you really needed to and I can understand about security.” I tightened my hold on him just a little. “And from your nightmares…I could tell it was bad.”
“Parts of it were. Strange, more than anything. And a little scary.” He smiled a little. “But there were good parts, too. The Doctor…Amy and Rory…Dr. Song…they were good people.” He handed me the envelope. “Read it.”
I took it from him reluctantly. “Are you sure?” When he nodded, I pulled out the blue-edged card and began to read. There wasn’t much; map references to a location of some sort, a day and time, which turned out to be for later today. What had been scribbled on the back was more interesting - and just as confusing.
Canton -
When you come, bring a full can of gasoline.
River will know what to do with it.
I hope the two of you have been happy together.
- The Doctor
I put the card back into it’s envelope and handed it back to him. “He knew about us?”
“He knew I wanted to get married. He was the one who said something to Nixon about the whole thing. Whether he knew about you specifically…well, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had.” A thoughtful look suddenly appeared on his face as he continued to finger the envelope. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask me to come with him. I think…if I hadn’t had you…I think I would have if he had offered. I don’t know.”
There was a wistful note in his voice, one I had never heard before. Swallowing hard, I asked the one question I really didn’t want the answer to. “Did you love him?”
To my immense relief, he shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. He was…I think it’s safe to say that I’ve never met anyone like him and probably won’t ever again.” He thought for a moment. “He was…odd. That’s best word I can come up with to describe him. Like I said…a good man, but I’m not sure I could’ve dealt with that amount of odd on a regular basis.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Canton’s pretty calm and conservative deep down - a regular straight arrow in most ways. When he had been younger, though, he had been much worse; some of my own little quirks had driven him crazy. “And now he needs you for something,” I finished, trying to wrap my head around all this. “Something that involves a full can of gasoline and you going God only knows where.”
He shrugged. “See what I mean? Odd. He asked for a full SWAT team and a fez when I met him.” He paused. “And I looked the map reference up. It’s actually not too far from here. I’d be back in a couple of hours.” Canton smiled. “That’s if things don’t get complicated.”
Somehow I had the feeling that things usually got complicated when whoever this Doctor was showed up, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I asked, “And if it does?”
“Then I’ll call.” He patted his shirt pocket, where the videophone I had bought him for his birthday was tucked away. Seeing the uncertain look on my face, his own softened. “I know you don’t like it. I don’t either. I’ve had a bad feeling about this whole thing since the moment I saw that envelope in the mail box this morning. But I have to go.”
“Why?” That was the one thing I couldn’t understand about all this. “If you’re having so many doubts about this, then why do you have to go?”
He was quiet for a long moment before he took my hands in his, his thumb brushing over my wedding ring. “Because if it hadn’t been for him…we wouldn’t have this.”
I sighed, all of my arguments shot down in that one instant. “Then go,” I said softly, cupped his face in my hands. “Go and help him if you can. It’s the least we can do.” I suddenly smiled. “Just remember who you’re married to. No running off to God knows where with strange men.”
He smiled at the teasing. “I already have a strange man. I don’t think I could deal with another one even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.” Taking my hands, he twined our fingers together and brought them up to his lips, kissing them. “I love you.”
Not satisfied with that, I pulled him into a hug. “I love you, too,” I breathed into his ear right before I kissed him.
*
It was late when he finally came home, smelling of smoke and gasoline and with tears running down his lined cheeks. I didn’t say anything; I simply pulled him into my arms and let him cry for the man who had given us the one thing we had dreamed of, the one thing we probably never would have managed on our own.
Validation.