SGU fic: Laugh, I Nearly Died, Part A
Title: Laugh, I Nearly Died
Author: Kaworu
Fandom: SGU
Pairings/Relationships: Eli/Rush, Eli&his mother, Rush/Gloria, Daniel/Rush, mention of Jack/Daniel
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Water, Earth, Time
Warnings: minor character deaths (canon and not-exactly-opposing-canon)
Wordcount: 12633
Summary: From an empty bed of the deceased to the start of the relationship.
Notes: Written for SGU Fic Exchange.
Recipient: fyrewyre
Recipient's prompts:
Rating requested (G-NC-17): Any
Characters or pairings requested: Eli/Rush (check), Rush/wife (check), Eli and mother (check).
Prompts requested (please list at least 4; you may list more if you wish):
1. Eli/Rush, starting a relationship after a fight about RushТs УChildishФ Comment in water (check)
2. Rush and his wife towards the end of her fight with cancer (ThatТs how she died, right?) (yes, that's how. and check)
3. After they get back from the Destiny, Eli introduces Rush to his mom (check) (Awkward moments galore as Eli tries to figure out how to introduce his mom to his boyfriend (check))
4. Eli/Rush, first time. (check)
5. Eli and Rush talk about their pasts, Eli with his mom and Rush with his wife. (check)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eli looked at the empty bed, perfectly made, immaculate as any other hospital bed.
"Would you like to have a minute, sir?" the nurse said. "You can get her possessions on the reception when you're ready."
Eli nodded not trusting himself to speak. The nurse looked at him intently, sympathetically, then left the room.
"I didn't even know she was on cocktail," Eli said finally after staring at the empty bed for a few more minutes. "That she... It's not fair!" He looked at the only other occupant of the room, eyes red rimmed.
"It never is," Rush replied. He stood a couple of feet away, arms crossed on his chest and expression unreadable, a cold statue showing neither support nor rejection.
"It... it's not fair," Eli repeated bowing his head and stifling a sniffle, and hugged himself looking every bit lost and miserable child he felt.
Rush sighed and made the few steps needed to close the distance between the two men, wrapped his arms around Eli feeling awkward and stupid holding the larger frame and still intent to give the sympathy and support he didn't know how to give, didn't know if he was even capable of. It was all too easy to see himself in Eli's place --- mourning someone more important than life itself, wanting someone else, anyone, to be there for you, and at the same time wanting the whole world to go to hell and leave you the fuck alone... but that was him, not the younger man sniffling in his arms. Still...
"I can't believe I wasn't there when..." Eli's voice trailed off.
Yes, he wasn't. He wasn't there to change the sheets or clean the bedpan for a person too sick to lift a hand, wasn't there to listen to the delirium, the half formed memories mixed with delusions, wasn't there to be called another person's name, over and over again... Rush tightened his arms wondering what Eli would feel if he had to actually take care of a terminally sick person, what effect would it have on the younger man's psyche.
Eli leaned into Rush's embrace obviously taking the tightening of the older man's arms for the comfort he needed. "If only I hadn't listened to her, if we'd postponed it..."
"You still wouldn't have been able to be with her, at least if you didn't want to add other infections to the pneumocystosis. Not to mention she would have haunted you for the rest of your life if you had cancelled the ceremony for her."
Eli snorted at that. "She would have."
"She wanted you to be happy." Rush found Eli's left hand and peeled it from its death grip on the rumpled dress shirt. "She wanted you to go through with it, maybe even more than yourself, and she knew you too well." Eli shook his head and let Rush entwine their fingers, matching gold bands gleaming in the too vivid hospital light.
***
The golden band gleamed in the bright light as Eli knocked on a flute of champagne in his hand. The chatter quieted, and the guests turned their attention from food and drinks to the happy looking man in tux, hair tamed and a huge grin threatening to overshadow the chandelier. "Erm, guys... Listen!"
The crowd finally shut up. Chloe beamed a Barbie-doll smile at him hanging off Scott's arm like a sticky Christmas decoration, Scott grinned happily, and it was too easy to imagine a tail at his backside wagging madly, TJ stood on his other side with a flute of champagne, a small controlled smile brighter than the other two beside her. All of the Destiny crew looked expectantly at the happy groom.
"Erm..." Eli looked nervously behind him at Rush who was chatting quietly with Dr. Daniel Jackson on a nearby coach ("I'm sure the correct translation would be--" "Yes, but in this context--" "Of course, but considering the connotations--" "Still in this situation the phrase accent--"). "I'm making a toast here."
Rush stood up with a sigh, nodded at Daniel who smiled back at him, and took his place at Eli's side with a strained smile.
"Erm, thanks everyone for coming today," Eli started with a nervous quirk of his lips. "I really appreciate it, it means a lot to me that all of you..."
Rush tuned out his newlywed husband stumbling all over his speech and looked across the hall in mild distaste carefully hidden behind a tight smile. No amount of grumbling could prevent Eli from inviting not only all of the Destiny crew which was a small disaster in itself but also every single person on SGC who had as much as greeted him once. Of course it didn't mean that every one of them was present, most pleading unable to come to Canada on such a short notice (three months, for Heaven's sake!), but still there were at least a few dozens of people in different stages of inebriation scattered across a carefully decorated hall. Chloe was still clinging to Scott, her eyes red rimmed and an expression on the doll-like face that of an older sister giving her baby brother away. TJ escaped to the snack table (supposedly to refill her glass) and was purposely ignoring Scott's betrayed glares and snickers from a more than a little tipsy Colonel Young in dress blues watching the youngsters with apparent amusement. Rush barely stifled a long-suffering sigh. The only guest that he had personally approved sat behind him (he could practically hear the polite smile), and even that came with an appendage of a certain Lieutenant General grinning unsympathetically from the other side of the hall (and was it a bottle of beer in his hand? Where the hell did he get that?).
Finally Eli ended his mess of a speech, and Rush escaped back to the couch before a teary-eyed Chloe could drag him along with his husband. "Aren't you jealous?" Daniel asked with a small smile and a teasing glint in his eyes as Rush settled beside him.
Rush snorted. "Eli wouldn't stand a chance even if he still wanted to pursue her."
At that moment Scott occupied the center of the room calling for attention. "I would like to make a toast."
"Oh, please," Rush muttered. "Not one of his long speeches ending with a customary prayer."
"It is your wedding," Daniel muttered back with a half smirk. "Be patient, and you shall be rewarded." The blue gaze turned meaningful, and he gestured (with both a hand and his eyes) towards Eli who was looking pleadingly at him, although Rush wasn't sure if it was a plea for him to behave or to save Eli from Chloe's clutches.
"Raise your glasses and join me in a toast to the happy couple. May God's light always shine upon them and be their beacon in the years to come..."
Rush fidgeted in his seat and tried desperately not to look as bored as he felt. "I love my man, I love him best
I love him more than all the rest
I'll fuck him sitting, I'll fuck him lying
If he were a bird, I'd fuck him flying
And when he's dead he won't be forgotten
I'll dig him up and fuck him rotten," he muttered with a deadpan expression making Daniel snigger and nearly spill his red wine.
"I'll have to remember this one." General Jack O'Neill materialized out of nowhere behind the couch. And, yes, it was a bottle of beer in his hand.
Daniel turned back to smile at the man. "I'm sure you will," he said smoothly. "Too bad you won't be able to use it unless you plan to retire a couple of years early," he added with a smirk.
"Careful, Danny," O'Neill answered in fake warning. "Even when noone asks it's not always a good idea to tell."
Rush tuned out the SGC's Worst Kept Secret's teasing bickering and listened to Scott drone on with half an ear. A couple of minutes later the young man finally ended his speech (with a customary prayer, who would've thunk. And yes, General O'Neill was a bad influence on him), and everyone raised their glasses when one of the waiters entered with a phone. "Mr. Eli Wallace?" he called.
"That's me!" Eli raised his hand. "It must be my mom," he said reaching for the phone, a flute of champagne still in his other hand. "Hello? ...yes, that's me." The cheerful expression turned worried. "What happened?" A couple of seconds later the young man's expression froze, eyes turned glassy with shock and a hint of denial, and a moment later the hand holding the flute unclasped letting the glass and amber liquid fall to the marble floor and shatter into myriads of shining shards and droplets.
Rush sprung into action hurrying to the scene and grasping the phone from his unmoving husband's hand. "Hello? Who is it?" he said into the receiver.
"This is Memorial Hospital Central, Dr. David Cameron," a measured male voice said. "And you are?"
"I'm Nicholas Rush, Eli Wallace's husband."
There was a moment's pause. Then, "I regret to tell you that Mrs. Maryann Wallace has passed away."
***
A plate fell to the floor, white shards blinking merrily in the bright kitchen light. The woman, worn out and weary looking, dark circles under her sunken eyes, kneeled down to pick them with a sigh.
"Anyway, I was just saying," Eli chattered on leaning back against the kitchen counter. "It's not a big deal, we can postpone it for a week or two." He sneaked another cookie from the counter and crunched on it happily. "These are the best," he said with his mouth full.
Maryann sighed. "Eli. I don't want you to postpone it." The woman cursed as she cut a finger on a small white shred.
"Come on, let me help you." Eli kneeled beside his mom and reached for her hand, but the woman jerked the hand away.
"No!" She looked at the hurt look on her son's face and sighed. "No, Eli. I don't want you to risk hurting yourself, and my viral load has gone up recently." She smiled as the young man's expression turned worried. "Don't worry, everything's going to be alright." She touched Eli's cheek with her uninjured hand, and he cringed at the bony feel --- it was getting harder to ignore the way his mother was getting thinner and thinner, the sunken eyes acquiring a sick person's gleam, the skin dry and rough and pale. "I want you," Maryann continued, "to have the most wonderful wedding." She held the hand up stalling a protest. "And not worry about your sick mother. It is going to be alright," she said again with a smile. "We'll have dinner here as soon as you get back from Italy, the whole family. God knows this is not what I had in mind for you, but if this man makes you happy..." The smile on Maryann's face looked a bit strained. She tried to be sincere, she really did, but there were just too many hardships waiting for her boy, the ones he could have avoided if he'd found a nice girl, the ones she knew her son has chosen of his own free will.
"Seriously, mom." Eli didn't want to let go. At least not yet. "We can change the date, it's not a big deal. You'll do what you have to do, have your treatment and then give me off at the altar." He looked at his mother pleadingly, and Maryann sighed. The boy might have grown up and was going to get married, but he was still the child she knew, loved and wanted to protect.
"Please," she said. "It's too much trouble to reschedule the ceremony not to mention your trip. I promise you'll have a chance to receive my congratulations."
This time it was Eli's turn to sigh mimicking his mother's earlier gesture. "Okay," he said getting up. "We'll have the dinner as soon as we come back if Rush doesn't put me on a diet after to much pasta." He grinned making Maryann roll her eyes.
"That's one thing I have to respect him for," she muttered under her breath making Eli copy her earlier expression. "And Eli," she said louder resuming her task of gathering the shards. "You're still calling your," she stammered for a moment, "future husband by his last name."
Eli shrugged. "I don't know, calling him Nicholas doesn't feel right, and if I call him Nick..." The meaningful expression made it absolutely obvious what repercussions Eli would have to suffer if he ever gathered the courage (or stupidity) to call the other man 'Nick'. "By the way, where is he?"
"In the backyard I think." Maryann nodded in the general direction of the back door.
Eli heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I'll get him."
Maryann nodded forcing back a cough, her chest contracting painfully.
Eli went outside with one last suspicious look at his mother and heaved another sigh at the sight that greeted him. "I though you were going to quit," he grumbled with a pout.
Rush graced him with a mildly annoyed glare taking another drag on his cigarette.
"Come on, let's say 'bye' to mom and go home."
Rush showed Eli the unfinished cigarette with a small smirk and proceeded to take a slow drag apparently enjoying both the process and annoying his younger lover.
"Who's childish now?" Eli muttered under his breath earning himself a snort. A couple of minutes later he was fidgeting and wrinkling his nose from the smelly puffs of smoke inevitably going his way when Rush finally finished his cancer stick and stabbed out the butt in his portable ashtray. "You smell awful," Eli commented when Rush passed him to get into the house.
"You can always sleep on the sofa if you don't like the smell," the older man retorted with a smirk, his lover glaring at his back.
***
Eli nearly bumped into Rush's back as the man stopped right before entering the house. "What is it?" he asked watching as the scientist rummaged his pockets looking for something.
"Nothing," Rush answered as he dug out a pack of cigarettes. "Go inside, I'll join you in a few minutes."
"Oh, no, you don't." Eli stood akimbo with narrowed eyes. "I don't want you stinking of tobacco when you meet my mom. And anyway, you were going to quit!"
Rush sighed putting the cigarette he was about to light back into the pack. "It is you who wants me to quit, not me," he retorted grumpily.
"It's unhealthy! You'll get..." the younger man stopped himself before he could say the forbidden word. "yellow teeth!" he said instead getting a snort from his lover. "And your breath sticks," he grumbled.
"There is absolutely no need for you to smell by breath if you don't want to," Rush answered with a hint of a smirk. "Are we going to stay here all day or are we going inside?"
Eli opened his mouth indignant then shook his head. "Come on," he said entering the house. He was too used to his lover's antics to be roused by them anymore.
Upon entering he was met with the most wonderful, mouthwatering smell. "Schnitzel!" he exclaimed making a beeline for the kitchen. "Hi, mom." He kissed the smiling woman on the cheek.
"Eli," the woman answered and framed her son's face with her hands. "You look good," she said appraisingly. "How've you been?"
"Great! Great." Eli answered with a grin covering his nervousness. "Erm, mom?" He sneaked a glance at the doorway and the man standing just inside. "I wanted you to meet someone."
Maryann looked at the short weary looking man standing in her kitchen with a carefully polite if a bit nervous smile. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I haven't noticed you." She smiled at him, as carefully polite as Eli's guest.
"It is absolutely alright," he said with a small nod.
Eli fidgeted by his mother's side. "Erm... Well... This is Nicholas Rush, my..." he stopped for a second glancing nervously at his mother then at Rush, then at his mother again. "My partner," he said finally. "And this is my mom," he added quickly beaming at the woman.
"It's nice to know that Eli is getting along with his colleagues. What are you working on? If that is alright to talk about. Eli doesn't tell me anything about his work."
"No, mom." Eli took an instinctive step back fidgeting again. "He's not that kind of partner. We do work together, but he's... well... erm..." He turned a pleading look to the other man, still smiling politely if a bit more strained.
"We're in a relationship," Rush said from his corner, expression never changing.
Maryann looked confused for a moment then her expression turned blank. "Oh," was all she managed to say. Slowly her face turned back to cautious politeness. "It comes as a surprise," she recovered finally. "Eli hasn't told me anything," she gave her retreating son a pointed look, "about this."
"I'm telling you now!" Eli was already standing beside his 'partner' stretching an arm... and stopping abruptly at the older man's glare that said clearly that if Eli dared to put an arm around his shoulders he would have to say farewell to his limb. So instead of losing an arm needlessly Eli scratched the back of his own head with a nervous laugh.
A moment has passed with all three of them standing mutely in a brightly lit kitchen --- Eli stepping from foot to foot in an impression of a child beside a closed toilet door, Rush cautiously blank doing thousands of evaluations in his mind, and Maryann torn between blank shock, the need to accept and support her child, and the nagging need to break something, kick the intruder out and turn her boy back to normal (and preferably lock him in his room for the rest of his life). Surprisingly she was the first to recover.
"The dinner will be ready shortly. You can wait in the living room," she told Rush.
"Thank you," he answered with a nod. A short look at Eli who pointed in the direction of the living room, and the scientist was out of the kitchen.
"I'll--"
"Eli." Maryann's voice stopped the retreating man. "Please, help me set the table."
"Sure," he answered with a too bright beam anticipating major chew out. "So... How've you been doing here?" he asked taking the plates out.
Maryann gave her son a hard look. "You know very well how I've been doing. What I would like you to tell me is how that man has managed... to convince you--"
"Mom!" Eli exclaimed indignant. "Rush hasn't convinced me of anything! You don't know him--"
"I know you! And it's so far from what I would've expected from you. He's twice your age!"
"He's not!" Eli answered in a show of 'maturity'. "And anyway, what does it have to do with anything?"
Maryann sighed putting the dishes she was holding back to the counter top. "Alright. Your sudden interest in... Your sudden interest aside, have you though of what it would be like in a couple of years' time? In five years? In ten years when you're still young, and he's well past his best years? Or is it just a..." she made a face, "fling? Because I don't remember raising you to treat relationships like that."
"It's not a fling!" Eli's face was turning angry, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "We're both serious, and you know I wouldn't ever do anything like that! And, yes, I have! In ten years, in twenty years, whatever!" He stopped panting slightly from the yelling.
Maryann looked at him for a long moment silent. "Alright," she said finally. "I know it's no use arguing with you when you're really into something, let's just hope you won't regret it."
"I won't," Eli promised serious.
Maryanne nodded and took the dishes to bring to a table in the living room.
"Just for your knowledge," Rush commented from an armchair in a corner of the room, a book in his lap and face calmly observant. "I have never had any taste in children, and Eli is not an exception." The man then turned back to his book hiding a smirk behind it as he saw his hostess blush from the corner of his eye.
"I'm sorry you had to hear my argument with Eli," she said as she put the dishes down on the table. "But I am not sorry that I said any of it."
Rush nodded, distrust acknowledged. "Then I'll have to disprove you, at least for Eli's sake." The voice was so calm and matter-of-fact that one could think the man was commenting on a book in an empty room, not talking to his lover's mother after overhearing a rather heated argument on his account.
"I hope you will," Maryann answered almost as matter-of-fact if a little more dry, and the two adults stared at each other.
Eli chose that moment to walk happily into the room balancing plates and glasses on one hand with the other full of silverware. "So, time for the greatest schni--" he began. "Am I interrupting something?" He looked from his mother to Rush.
"No, nothing." Maryann hurried to take the glasses that were dangerously tilting from her son's grip.
***
Eli tripped on a shoe and stumbled nearly losing grip on his bowl of popcorn.
"Careful," Rush grumbled from his usual seat in the corner, a book in his lap.
Eli maneuvered the bowl to the couch. "Who the hell left... oh." He glared at his own sneaker that has almost cost him his popcorn (and a vacuum cleaning).
Rush merely snorted from his seat. Which turned into a sigh as he heard the first sounds of the DVD Eli has chosen to waste his time on. Again. For the third time that week. Grumbling about ever outgrowing cartoon addictions under his breath he went back to his book.
Eli watched Futurama for a few minutes before his brain drifted to something else, something that's been plaguing him from the moment he returned to Earth. What he and Rush had was serious, no doubt about that. So there would come a moment when he would have to introduce his mom to his... he couldn't quite make himself call the older scientist 'boyfriend'. He snickered. And immediately hoped the amused sound would be attributed to what was going on on the screen, not to the teen title he's just called Rush in his head. He concentrated on the show for a couple more minutes before drifting to Rush and his mom again. She wouldn't be happy with his choice but she would come to accept it in the end, he was sure. The question was... would Rush accept his mom? Wouldn't the sick woman remind him too much of his own loss? "Ouch!" He was so deep in thought that he managed to bit his own fingers along with the popcorn.
"I knew the cartoons degenerated your brain but to the point of cannibalism..." Rush sniped from his corner ignoring Eli's glare.
The man was sometimes downright infuriating! And he was being concerned with his 'fragile psyche' here. Eli shook his head. Let the bastard deal with his own demons.
"Are you alright?" A few moments there was a hand on his shoulder, and another hand took his abused fingers from his mouth. "There's no blood," Rush commented, concern seeping through his blank expression, breath, dangerously close to Eli's face, ruffling hair above his brow.
On the other hand... not. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," Eli assured with a beam. "Want some?" He held the bowl of popcorn in front of the older man.
Rush made a face and already opened his mouth to comment on the junk Eli's been stuffing himself with but Eli put the bowl away with a sigh. "I get it." So much for the caring 'boyfriend'. He snickered earning himself a raised eyebrow and no doubt another comment about his intelligence ready on the tip of the other man's tongue. "No, I just remembered that moment with Bender."
Rush almost rolled his eyes. "Spare me. It is more than enough that you watch this stupidity, but thinking about it while watching it... I doubt it might become contagious."
Eli looked in time to see a hint of a smile flicking through Rush's sour expression. The younger man's face softened. "Hey, at least then we'll have something in common," he teased back.
"I'm sure we can think of something more... intelligent than that," Rush retorted, his face visibly straining to remain serious.
"Like what? Opera? Or your cheesy Western movies?" Eli smirked.
"Not as 'cheesy'," Rush said the word with obvious distaste, "as your daft cartoons."
"You haven't given them a chance!" Eli protested.
"The same could be said about you and the Western movies," Rush countered.
"I've watched enough Western movies, and can you say that you've watched at least one episode of Futurama? From beginning till the end? Honestly?"
"Then you haven't watched them right. And no, I didn't feel the need to."
"See?" Eli beamed triumphant. "You know what? You watch this DVD with me, and I'll watch one of your movies with you, the way you think is right. Deal?" He stretched a hand towards the older man. "Or are you afraid you'll actually like it?" he couldn't help baiting.
Rush snorted in answer. "Speak for yourself, young man," he returned and shook Eli's hand.
"Here," Eli moved to make space on the couch and patted the place beside himself. Rush sat down with a sigh immediately folding arms on his chest. Eli sighed. "Relax a little, will you? Noone's going to torture you."
"If you're going to talk I won't hear the dialogues. Not that I mind," Rush said without changing his pose. Eli rolled his eyes. The man was infuriating as hell, but his psyche deserved to be protected no matter how much he sniped and grumbled. So Eli would have to think of something to make the older man's meeting with Eli's mother safe and pleasant. Or he will have to trust the other man with his ability to block anything and everything out including his own emotions and memories. There was nothing good in suppressing them but just this once Eli was glad for Rush's acquired coldness. But still he'll have to soften the impression... A familiar sound has broken his train of thought.
"Hey! You agreed to watch the whole disc!" Eli protested as the DVD slid out of the player.
"I did." Rush gave him a strange look. "The disc ended five minutes ago."
"Oh." Eli blinked. "Okay then. Now it's your turn." He attempted to beam at Rush, still a little dazed from the sudden return from the thoughtland.
He tried to concentrate on the movie, he really did. He even listened to Rush's comments on the happenings which made it a little more interesting... but halfway into the movie Eli still drifted off, his head nestled into the crook of Rush's neck, a peaceful smile on his face and a small smirk on Rush's.
***
I'm talking to him. I really do. It's so strange... It feels like I haven't done it for a long time, very long, but it can't be right --- I haven't left this room for a long time. Very long. And he was always here, always by my side. I don't actually remember it. It's so strange... I don't remember him being near but I know he was, all the time. My poor darling. He should spend more time outside. It's so stifling here. Has he aired the room today? He should. It's so stuffy I can't breathe. My poor darling. He looks so concerned. Why is he concerned? Is it evening? Why doesn't he turn the lights on? It's not like my eyes would hurt. They won't, honest. Oh, it's so beautiful. The colours. Black and red, the combination is mystically magnetic, so beautiful. It should have a tune. Dark but not heavy. I should play it's tune. Where is my violin? My violin. I can't play. Why can't I play? I should. There is a tune I should play. What was it? I don't remember. Can't remember. Remember. Can't. What can't I remember? It's so strange. The colours. I should--
***
She lay on the bed. The skin grey and dry, like an old parchment, hanging on the once beautiful face like it was washed and stretched and dried just wrong making it a couple sizes too big and rumpled, cracked. Like an ill treated boot. The bony hands were a shade darker than the sheets they lay on, the bones and joints too prominent, like they were going to rip through the paper-like skin if the woman attempted to move them. A sigh escaped from the pale chapped lips, too quiet too be a word, too strained and wheezy.
Rush checked the dropper --- the bag half full, painkillers dripping steadily.
Another sigh escaped the sleeping woman, longer, slower, more strained. The face crumpled in a grimace, hairless head and dark circles around her sunken eyes making her look like a creature from a third rate horror film or the old-fashioned Nosferatu of the twenties. Then the breathing changed. Shallow and erratic, it seemed like the woman was in pain, and Rush checked the IV again, carefully, panic seeping from his every move. He took a deep breath remembering the nurse's instructions and reached for the bedside table when the woman's breathing deepened. He sighed a sigh of relief.
"Nicholas?" He almost didn't recognize the voice. It was so hoarse and wheezy, so quiet. And it was so long since she has last called him by his name...
"I'm here," he answered taking his wife's hand, instinctively as quiet.
"Good," she said, the eyes opening a crack, the lids heavy and lashless. She turned her head a few degrees, just enough to look at her husband, and it was an effort not to cringe at the murky, lifeless look of her eyes. "Air the room?"
"Of course," he nodded. Something was wrong. The breathing was deep, deeper than it's been in a while but Gloria still sounded breathless, more breathless than usual. "How do you feel?" he asked, more to make her talk, to hear her talking, to him, than anything else.
"Fine," she whispered, panting now, short wheezy inhales followed by coughing exhales.
Rush froze. His brain was yelling at him to do something, to move, reach for the medicine kept in the bedside table, to call the nurse, but he could only watch mortified as his wife took heavy erratic breaths, her chest lifting from the bed from the effort, her head falling back. Another inhale, longer than any of the others, strained and painful looking, making the frail chest arch above the sheets, and then her body sagged. It took his shuttered brain a whole minute to comprehend that her eyes were open and unmoving. It took another minute to start moving, to get up from the floor he didn't remember falling to, make a tentative step to the bed and lift the shaking hand to check the pulse on the woman's neck. And then his body moved on it's own, a hand sliding over her eyes closing them then down to a bony hand lying on the sheets, lifting it his lips for a soft, absent kiss, a single tear rolling on a stubbled cheek.
***
"Daddy?"
Rush cursed under his breath, straightened and walked the last few steps to the bed taking the occupant's frail, bony hand his his and lifting it to his lips. "Yes, dearie?" He smiled. A strained, fake smile accented by his pained expression, the lines deep around his eyes.
The woman beamed at him, chapped lips stretching on the parchment-like face, the childlike expression a contrast to the murky, sunken eyes of a sick delusional person. A stab of guilt. Sharp. Merciless.
"Gloria bored," she croaked and started coughing, the fit shaking the thin body.
"Easy." He lifted her upper body and held her until the fit ended then helped her to lie back down.
She looked up at him, a pitiful pout on her lips. Rush sighed.
"I'll read you a book," he said making the woman beam.
A few minutes later she was sleeping, an occasional wheezy cough breaking through her lips. Rush closed the book, Alice in Wonderland, and rubbed his eyes. When was the last time she has called him by his name? Seemed like it was years ago, for too long he had to watch his wife deteriorate from a bright, sharp woman to angry and bitter to a delusional child, had to endure the naive blinking of the bruise-framed eyes, or worse still, blank stare when the painkillers were too strong suppressing her consciousness completely. He thought he was going to break, was sure he was going to break along with his dying wife. But maybe he was going to make it in the end. Of course he would have to deal with the guilt, but at least now it felt almost... bearable. He raked a hand through his hair with a sigh.
***
A hand left his hair ruffled making him look younger, roguish and even more weary.
"I'm just saying you should think about it," the man opposite him was saying. "It's a great opportunity, a great chance to discover something the humanity wouldn't have even discovered. Just think of the possibilities of this research!" The blue eyes stared at his intently, earnest, passionate. "Please, just think about it for a couple of days," the man pleaded. Was it even possible for a face to be that expressive without being grotesque? Because the other scientist spoke not only with his voice, he spoke with his eyes, his whole face, his whole body.
"I will," Rush promised knowing full well he had a lot of other things to think about, more important than any mind shuttering discovery that would no doubt change the world history.
The man turned his head down a fraction looking at Rush through his lashes which was probably supposed to be an intent glower but turned out a little too cute. Then the man proceeded to bite his lip in obvious thought narrowing his eyes behind the glasses. "You know what," he said. "I could tell you more about the project, just some details that can help you make a decision, but it's not something we should discuss in public." He looked at the pub around them, people chatting and laughing, noone caring about a couple of men in the far corner. "Oh, and I have a very nice bottle of Margaux Bordeaux," he beamed.
Rush sighed. The last thing he wanted was an idle chat with a bottle of wine with the American scientist. But the said scientist seemed to have a bulldog's bite under the cheerful, friendly facade, and he had a feeling denying him now would bring a lot more 'friendly encounters' later. "I have to make a call," he said reaching for his cell phone.
"Sure," the other man beamed carefully not triumphant.
Rush checked that the nurse would be with his wife for at least a couple more hours and nearly made a face as his companion paid for their drinks while he was busy on the phone then followed the man out of the pub and into a cab.
A short ride later they were in a hotel, and Rush followed the other man into his room. The light turned on revealing a standard single, clean and neat, a suitcase in a corner and a shirt on the back of the only chair. Rush chose to sit on the edge of the neatly made twin bed, and a minute later his host handed him a glass of red wine and made a random toast. They drank in silence for some time, Rush stiff on the edge of the bed and the other scientist relaxing into his chair until finally the man spoke.
"Why do you refuse the project so much?" he asked conversationally. "You seem like a brilliant scientist, striving for knowledge, someone I expected to be the first to clutch to the idea of researching the unknown. What stops you?" He raised both brows at Rush taking a sip of his wine.
"I have other... more pressing concerns on my mind," Rush answered, his expression guarded. His companion sighed.
"I'd like to tell you something... if you don't mind my personal experience. I think it can be of some relevance." The man looked somber, and Rush sighed. He wanted to be rude and tell the man he didn't care about his 'personal experience' whatever that was, it couldn't be relevant to his situation, but doing that... would have consequences, and he couldn't calculate what, so in the end he decided to let the man talk. Maybe then he would finally leave Rush alone. He nodded his agreement to listen.
"I lost my wife," the man said, and Rush stifled another sigh preparing for a sappy story of a terrible car accident or a fatal illness ending in a customary suggestion to bury himself in work. "I know what you might think," the man said hastily, "but it's not like that. She was... taken away, and I searched for her for a long time until she got killed in front of my eyes." He stopped for a moment rubbing his eyes. "I," he continued looking at Rush, "couldn't go on, couldn't continue the job that has taken her away, couldn't work with the people that... let it happen. But there was this person. He was there for me when Sha're was first taken away, and he was the one to put me back together when she was... gone for good. He bugged me, didn't let me go a single day without a dozen calls, invited himself for beer," he smiled fondly, the gaze far away, and it was apparent there was more to the story than the scientist was telling. "So in the end... I gave up. There was another reason for me to start working again, but the one who really pulled me out of my grief was that person. So, yes, here's the part when I suggest you bury yourself in work to keep yourself from thinking too much, but it's important to have someone to be there for you, to put you back together." He smiled sincere, eyes bright, and earnest, and trusting. "And it can be awfully impolite but..." The face turned sheepish, and he rubbed his hands together. "I just might be that someone. I mean, I know what you're going through, and maybe..." He shrugged.
Maybe it was the wine talking, or maybe he was just too tired, but Rush just turned his head down without answering. It was so tempting. There was a hand on his, and Rush looked up it see a vibrant blue gaze a little too close for his comfort.
"Dr. Jackson, I don't think--"
"Daniel," the man corrected with a smile. And Rush just gave up. His body moved on its own closing the distance and kissing Daniel on the lips, clumsily, making the man's glasses hang askew on his nose. Daniel made a surprised noise pulling away then took his glasses off and put them carefully on the bedside table, a hand sliding along the frame, leaning in to return the kiss. Rush latched onto his lips, a hand lifting to grasp the back of Daniel's head keeping him in place, impatient tongue probing his lips and surging forward when Daniel opened his mouth with a sigh. Another hand clutched the front of Daniel's cream sweater, pulling him from his seat, bringing him closer, stretching the soft material, and Daniel moved bringing a knee to the bed, resting his weight on a leg at Rush's side and a hand on the other, pushing the smaller man further onto the bed, their mouths still locked passionately. A lot of pulling and fumbling later they were sprawled on the bed with Daniel on his elbows and knees over Rush, his hands framing the other man's head like a protecting shield, his breath ghosting over Rush's neck as he struggled with their belts and flies. A breathy moan escaped Daniel as Rush finally won his battle against the fabric sneaking a hand into the younger scientist's jeans.
"Let me," Daniel breathed into Rush's ear trailing his lips over the lobe, one hand stroking down Rush's body to push his pants down and free his straining cock, wringing a grunt from his as the hand wrapped around his length stroking in a slow sensual movement. Rush arched into the touch, his hips lifting off the bed, another grunt smothered between clenched teeth. He started stroking Daniel's erection, hard, squeezing a touch too tight, and Daniel bit his lip before lying half on top of Rush, one leg sprawled awkwardly over the other man's hips, trapping both their hands between their bodies. "Don't," he whispered, his mouth sliding over Rush's cheekbone in a series of small bites and licks, as Rush tried to free his hand, to start stroking again. Daniel shifted to let himself take both Rush's hands in his bringing them over his head, pressing both wrists to the bed in one hand in a surprisingly strong grip, then shifting again to let his free hand slide between their bodies and take both cocks stroking them together, slow, steady.
Rush groaned and bucked, both to increase the friction and to take control of the situation back, but Daniel pressed him into the bed stilling the movements, his rhythm tantalizingly slow, deliberate, grounding.
"Let it go," he whispered as he bit along Rush's jaw line, stubble catching on the soft lips.
A few more movements, and Rush did. He sighed his release as he arched against Daniel, his whole body straining to lift off the bed under the larger man, the head thrown back, eyes open and unseeing, mouth open in a painfully long, shuddery inhale. A few moments, and he sagged against the bed, the air leaving his lips, eyes still open and unblinking.
Daniel wiped his hand on the covers and shifted off Rush releasing his hands, settling against his side to stroke the other man's hair. Rush lay unmoving for a minute as if his body refused to cooperate then in a blink he was tense again sliding both hands over his face, raking them through his hair.
"I'm sorry," he said, arms moving to wrap around himself. "You probably didn't mean it that way--"
Daniel put a finger against his mouth shaking his head. "You needed it," he said simply. "You still do."
"And you always do what others need," Rush sniped against Daniel's finger, defensive, making the man smile.
"No," he said, "I don't." He moved his hand from Rush's lips over his cheek to the back of his head and pulled until Rush moved with him angling his face to Daniel's. But as he prepared for a sappy post coital kiss Daniel changed direction a fraction, and Rush ended with his face in the crook of Daniel's neck, both of the man's arms snaking around him in a loose but steady embrace.
Something poked Rush in a thigh, and he pushed against it making Daniel bite his lip and shift uncomfortably.
"Sorry, I should--"
"No," Daniel shook his head. "You shouldn't."
Rush moved his head to look at him skeptically.
"No, really," Daniel said. "It's okay." He shifted again to hide his no doubt painful erection from the other man.
Rush stared at him for a moment frowning, but Daniel pushed his head back onto his shoulder, and Rush surrendered with a shuddering sigh.
A thought of Gloria came unbidden along with painful guilt, and he buried his face deeper into the soft sweater, arms sliding to wrap around the other man's back.
Part B
Author: Kaworu
Fandom: SGU
Pairings/Relationships: Eli/Rush, Eli&his mother, Rush/Gloria, Daniel/Rush, mention of Jack/Daniel
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Water, Earth, Time
Warnings: minor character deaths (canon and not-exactly-opposing-canon)
Wordcount: 12633
Summary: From an empty bed of the deceased to the start of the relationship.
Notes: Written for SGU Fic Exchange.
Recipient: fyrewyre
Recipient's prompts:
Rating requested (G-NC-17): Any
Characters or pairings requested: Eli/Rush (check), Rush/wife (check), Eli and mother (check).
Prompts requested (please list at least 4; you may list more if you wish):
1. Eli/Rush, starting a relationship after a fight about RushТs УChildishФ Comment in water (check)
2. Rush and his wife towards the end of her fight with cancer (ThatТs how she died, right?) (yes, that's how. and check)
3. After they get back from the Destiny, Eli introduces Rush to his mom (check) (Awkward moments galore as Eli tries to figure out how to introduce his mom to his boyfriend (check))
4. Eli/Rush, first time. (check)
5. Eli and Rush talk about their pasts, Eli with his mom and Rush with his wife. (check)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eli looked at the empty bed, perfectly made, immaculate as any other hospital bed.
"Would you like to have a minute, sir?" the nurse said. "You can get her possessions on the reception when you're ready."
Eli nodded not trusting himself to speak. The nurse looked at him intently, sympathetically, then left the room.
"I didn't even know she was on cocktail," Eli said finally after staring at the empty bed for a few more minutes. "That she... It's not fair!" He looked at the only other occupant of the room, eyes red rimmed.
"It never is," Rush replied. He stood a couple of feet away, arms crossed on his chest and expression unreadable, a cold statue showing neither support nor rejection.
"It... it's not fair," Eli repeated bowing his head and stifling a sniffle, and hugged himself looking every bit lost and miserable child he felt.
Rush sighed and made the few steps needed to close the distance between the two men, wrapped his arms around Eli feeling awkward and stupid holding the larger frame and still intent to give the sympathy and support he didn't know how to give, didn't know if he was even capable of. It was all too easy to see himself in Eli's place --- mourning someone more important than life itself, wanting someone else, anyone, to be there for you, and at the same time wanting the whole world to go to hell and leave you the fuck alone... but that was him, not the younger man sniffling in his arms. Still...
"I can't believe I wasn't there when..." Eli's voice trailed off.
Yes, he wasn't. He wasn't there to change the sheets or clean the bedpan for a person too sick to lift a hand, wasn't there to listen to the delirium, the half formed memories mixed with delusions, wasn't there to be called another person's name, over and over again... Rush tightened his arms wondering what Eli would feel if he had to actually take care of a terminally sick person, what effect would it have on the younger man's psyche.
Eli leaned into Rush's embrace obviously taking the tightening of the older man's arms for the comfort he needed. "If only I hadn't listened to her, if we'd postponed it..."
"You still wouldn't have been able to be with her, at least if you didn't want to add other infections to the pneumocystosis. Not to mention she would have haunted you for the rest of your life if you had cancelled the ceremony for her."
Eli snorted at that. "She would have."
"She wanted you to be happy." Rush found Eli's left hand and peeled it from its death grip on the rumpled dress shirt. "She wanted you to go through with it, maybe even more than yourself, and she knew you too well." Eli shook his head and let Rush entwine their fingers, matching gold bands gleaming in the too vivid hospital light.
***
The golden band gleamed in the bright light as Eli knocked on a flute of champagne in his hand. The chatter quieted, and the guests turned their attention from food and drinks to the happy looking man in tux, hair tamed and a huge grin threatening to overshadow the chandelier. "Erm, guys... Listen!"
The crowd finally shut up. Chloe beamed a Barbie-doll smile at him hanging off Scott's arm like a sticky Christmas decoration, Scott grinned happily, and it was too easy to imagine a tail at his backside wagging madly, TJ stood on his other side with a flute of champagne, a small controlled smile brighter than the other two beside her. All of the Destiny crew looked expectantly at the happy groom.
"Erm..." Eli looked nervously behind him at Rush who was chatting quietly with Dr. Daniel Jackson on a nearby coach ("I'm sure the correct translation would be--" "Yes, but in this context--" "Of course, but considering the connotations--" "Still in this situation the phrase accent--"). "I'm making a toast here."
Rush stood up with a sigh, nodded at Daniel who smiled back at him, and took his place at Eli's side with a strained smile.
"Erm, thanks everyone for coming today," Eli started with a nervous quirk of his lips. "I really appreciate it, it means a lot to me that all of you..."
Rush tuned out his newlywed husband stumbling all over his speech and looked across the hall in mild distaste carefully hidden behind a tight smile. No amount of grumbling could prevent Eli from inviting not only all of the Destiny crew which was a small disaster in itself but also every single person on SGC who had as much as greeted him once. Of course it didn't mean that every one of them was present, most pleading unable to come to Canada on such a short notice (three months, for Heaven's sake!), but still there were at least a few dozens of people in different stages of inebriation scattered across a carefully decorated hall. Chloe was still clinging to Scott, her eyes red rimmed and an expression on the doll-like face that of an older sister giving her baby brother away. TJ escaped to the snack table (supposedly to refill her glass) and was purposely ignoring Scott's betrayed glares and snickers from a more than a little tipsy Colonel Young in dress blues watching the youngsters with apparent amusement. Rush barely stifled a long-suffering sigh. The only guest that he had personally approved sat behind him (he could practically hear the polite smile), and even that came with an appendage of a certain Lieutenant General grinning unsympathetically from the other side of the hall (and was it a bottle of beer in his hand? Where the hell did he get that?).
Finally Eli ended his mess of a speech, and Rush escaped back to the couch before a teary-eyed Chloe could drag him along with his husband. "Aren't you jealous?" Daniel asked with a small smile and a teasing glint in his eyes as Rush settled beside him.
Rush snorted. "Eli wouldn't stand a chance even if he still wanted to pursue her."
At that moment Scott occupied the center of the room calling for attention. "I would like to make a toast."
"Oh, please," Rush muttered. "Not one of his long speeches ending with a customary prayer."
"It is your wedding," Daniel muttered back with a half smirk. "Be patient, and you shall be rewarded." The blue gaze turned meaningful, and he gestured (with both a hand and his eyes) towards Eli who was looking pleadingly at him, although Rush wasn't sure if it was a plea for him to behave or to save Eli from Chloe's clutches.
"Raise your glasses and join me in a toast to the happy couple. May God's light always shine upon them and be their beacon in the years to come..."
Rush fidgeted in his seat and tried desperately not to look as bored as he felt. "I love my man, I love him best
I love him more than all the rest
I'll fuck him sitting, I'll fuck him lying
If he were a bird, I'd fuck him flying
And when he's dead he won't be forgotten
I'll dig him up and fuck him rotten," he muttered with a deadpan expression making Daniel snigger and nearly spill his red wine.
"I'll have to remember this one." General Jack O'Neill materialized out of nowhere behind the couch. And, yes, it was a bottle of beer in his hand.
Daniel turned back to smile at the man. "I'm sure you will," he said smoothly. "Too bad you won't be able to use it unless you plan to retire a couple of years early," he added with a smirk.
"Careful, Danny," O'Neill answered in fake warning. "Even when noone asks it's not always a good idea to tell."
Rush tuned out the SGC's Worst Kept Secret's teasing bickering and listened to Scott drone on with half an ear. A couple of minutes later the young man finally ended his speech (with a customary prayer, who would've thunk. And yes, General O'Neill was a bad influence on him), and everyone raised their glasses when one of the waiters entered with a phone. "Mr. Eli Wallace?" he called.
"That's me!" Eli raised his hand. "It must be my mom," he said reaching for the phone, a flute of champagne still in his other hand. "Hello? ...yes, that's me." The cheerful expression turned worried. "What happened?" A couple of seconds later the young man's expression froze, eyes turned glassy with shock and a hint of denial, and a moment later the hand holding the flute unclasped letting the glass and amber liquid fall to the marble floor and shatter into myriads of shining shards and droplets.
Rush sprung into action hurrying to the scene and grasping the phone from his unmoving husband's hand. "Hello? Who is it?" he said into the receiver.
"This is Memorial Hospital Central, Dr. David Cameron," a measured male voice said. "And you are?"
"I'm Nicholas Rush, Eli Wallace's husband."
There was a moment's pause. Then, "I regret to tell you that Mrs. Maryann Wallace has passed away."
***
A plate fell to the floor, white shards blinking merrily in the bright kitchen light. The woman, worn out and weary looking, dark circles under her sunken eyes, kneeled down to pick them with a sigh.
"Anyway, I was just saying," Eli chattered on leaning back against the kitchen counter. "It's not a big deal, we can postpone it for a week or two." He sneaked another cookie from the counter and crunched on it happily. "These are the best," he said with his mouth full.
Maryann sighed. "Eli. I don't want you to postpone it." The woman cursed as she cut a finger on a small white shred.
"Come on, let me help you." Eli kneeled beside his mom and reached for her hand, but the woman jerked the hand away.
"No!" She looked at the hurt look on her son's face and sighed. "No, Eli. I don't want you to risk hurting yourself, and my viral load has gone up recently." She smiled as the young man's expression turned worried. "Don't worry, everything's going to be alright." She touched Eli's cheek with her uninjured hand, and he cringed at the bony feel --- it was getting harder to ignore the way his mother was getting thinner and thinner, the sunken eyes acquiring a sick person's gleam, the skin dry and rough and pale. "I want you," Maryann continued, "to have the most wonderful wedding." She held the hand up stalling a protest. "And not worry about your sick mother. It is going to be alright," she said again with a smile. "We'll have dinner here as soon as you get back from Italy, the whole family. God knows this is not what I had in mind for you, but if this man makes you happy..." The smile on Maryann's face looked a bit strained. She tried to be sincere, she really did, but there were just too many hardships waiting for her boy, the ones he could have avoided if he'd found a nice girl, the ones she knew her son has chosen of his own free will.
"Seriously, mom." Eli didn't want to let go. At least not yet. "We can change the date, it's not a big deal. You'll do what you have to do, have your treatment and then give me off at the altar." He looked at his mother pleadingly, and Maryann sighed. The boy might have grown up and was going to get married, but he was still the child she knew, loved and wanted to protect.
"Please," she said. "It's too much trouble to reschedule the ceremony not to mention your trip. I promise you'll have a chance to receive my congratulations."
This time it was Eli's turn to sigh mimicking his mother's earlier gesture. "Okay," he said getting up. "We'll have the dinner as soon as we come back if Rush doesn't put me on a diet after to much pasta." He grinned making Maryann roll her eyes.
"That's one thing I have to respect him for," she muttered under her breath making Eli copy her earlier expression. "And Eli," she said louder resuming her task of gathering the shards. "You're still calling your," she stammered for a moment, "future husband by his last name."
Eli shrugged. "I don't know, calling him Nicholas doesn't feel right, and if I call him Nick..." The meaningful expression made it absolutely obvious what repercussions Eli would have to suffer if he ever gathered the courage (or stupidity) to call the other man 'Nick'. "By the way, where is he?"
"In the backyard I think." Maryann nodded in the general direction of the back door.
Eli heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I'll get him."
Maryann nodded forcing back a cough, her chest contracting painfully.
Eli went outside with one last suspicious look at his mother and heaved another sigh at the sight that greeted him. "I though you were going to quit," he grumbled with a pout.
Rush graced him with a mildly annoyed glare taking another drag on his cigarette.
"Come on, let's say 'bye' to mom and go home."
Rush showed Eli the unfinished cigarette with a small smirk and proceeded to take a slow drag apparently enjoying both the process and annoying his younger lover.
"Who's childish now?" Eli muttered under his breath earning himself a snort. A couple of minutes later he was fidgeting and wrinkling his nose from the smelly puffs of smoke inevitably going his way when Rush finally finished his cancer stick and stabbed out the butt in his portable ashtray. "You smell awful," Eli commented when Rush passed him to get into the house.
"You can always sleep on the sofa if you don't like the smell," the older man retorted with a smirk, his lover glaring at his back.
***
Eli nearly bumped into Rush's back as the man stopped right before entering the house. "What is it?" he asked watching as the scientist rummaged his pockets looking for something.
"Nothing," Rush answered as he dug out a pack of cigarettes. "Go inside, I'll join you in a few minutes."
"Oh, no, you don't." Eli stood akimbo with narrowed eyes. "I don't want you stinking of tobacco when you meet my mom. And anyway, you were going to quit!"
Rush sighed putting the cigarette he was about to light back into the pack. "It is you who wants me to quit, not me," he retorted grumpily.
"It's unhealthy! You'll get..." the younger man stopped himself before he could say the forbidden word. "yellow teeth!" he said instead getting a snort from his lover. "And your breath sticks," he grumbled.
"There is absolutely no need for you to smell by breath if you don't want to," Rush answered with a hint of a smirk. "Are we going to stay here all day or are we going inside?"
Eli opened his mouth indignant then shook his head. "Come on," he said entering the house. He was too used to his lover's antics to be roused by them anymore.
Upon entering he was met with the most wonderful, mouthwatering smell. "Schnitzel!" he exclaimed making a beeline for the kitchen. "Hi, mom." He kissed the smiling woman on the cheek.
"Eli," the woman answered and framed her son's face with her hands. "You look good," she said appraisingly. "How've you been?"
"Great! Great." Eli answered with a grin covering his nervousness. "Erm, mom?" He sneaked a glance at the doorway and the man standing just inside. "I wanted you to meet someone."
Maryann looked at the short weary looking man standing in her kitchen with a carefully polite if a bit nervous smile. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I haven't noticed you." She smiled at him, as carefully polite as Eli's guest.
"It is absolutely alright," he said with a small nod.
Eli fidgeted by his mother's side. "Erm... Well... This is Nicholas Rush, my..." he stopped for a second glancing nervously at his mother then at Rush, then at his mother again. "My partner," he said finally. "And this is my mom," he added quickly beaming at the woman.
"It's nice to know that Eli is getting along with his colleagues. What are you working on? If that is alright to talk about. Eli doesn't tell me anything about his work."
"No, mom." Eli took an instinctive step back fidgeting again. "He's not that kind of partner. We do work together, but he's... well... erm..." He turned a pleading look to the other man, still smiling politely if a bit more strained.
"We're in a relationship," Rush said from his corner, expression never changing.
Maryann looked confused for a moment then her expression turned blank. "Oh," was all she managed to say. Slowly her face turned back to cautious politeness. "It comes as a surprise," she recovered finally. "Eli hasn't told me anything," she gave her retreating son a pointed look, "about this."
"I'm telling you now!" Eli was already standing beside his 'partner' stretching an arm... and stopping abruptly at the older man's glare that said clearly that if Eli dared to put an arm around his shoulders he would have to say farewell to his limb. So instead of losing an arm needlessly Eli scratched the back of his own head with a nervous laugh.
A moment has passed with all three of them standing mutely in a brightly lit kitchen --- Eli stepping from foot to foot in an impression of a child beside a closed toilet door, Rush cautiously blank doing thousands of evaluations in his mind, and Maryann torn between blank shock, the need to accept and support her child, and the nagging need to break something, kick the intruder out and turn her boy back to normal (and preferably lock him in his room for the rest of his life). Surprisingly she was the first to recover.
"The dinner will be ready shortly. You can wait in the living room," she told Rush.
"Thank you," he answered with a nod. A short look at Eli who pointed in the direction of the living room, and the scientist was out of the kitchen.
"I'll--"
"Eli." Maryann's voice stopped the retreating man. "Please, help me set the table."
"Sure," he answered with a too bright beam anticipating major chew out. "So... How've you been doing here?" he asked taking the plates out.
Maryann gave her son a hard look. "You know very well how I've been doing. What I would like you to tell me is how that man has managed... to convince you--"
"Mom!" Eli exclaimed indignant. "Rush hasn't convinced me of anything! You don't know him--"
"I know you! And it's so far from what I would've expected from you. He's twice your age!"
"He's not!" Eli answered in a show of 'maturity'. "And anyway, what does it have to do with anything?"
Maryann sighed putting the dishes she was holding back to the counter top. "Alright. Your sudden interest in... Your sudden interest aside, have you though of what it would be like in a couple of years' time? In five years? In ten years when you're still young, and he's well past his best years? Or is it just a..." she made a face, "fling? Because I don't remember raising you to treat relationships like that."
"It's not a fling!" Eli's face was turning angry, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "We're both serious, and you know I wouldn't ever do anything like that! And, yes, I have! In ten years, in twenty years, whatever!" He stopped panting slightly from the yelling.
Maryann looked at him for a long moment silent. "Alright," she said finally. "I know it's no use arguing with you when you're really into something, let's just hope you won't regret it."
"I won't," Eli promised serious.
Maryanne nodded and took the dishes to bring to a table in the living room.
"Just for your knowledge," Rush commented from an armchair in a corner of the room, a book in his lap and face calmly observant. "I have never had any taste in children, and Eli is not an exception." The man then turned back to his book hiding a smirk behind it as he saw his hostess blush from the corner of his eye.
"I'm sorry you had to hear my argument with Eli," she said as she put the dishes down on the table. "But I am not sorry that I said any of it."
Rush nodded, distrust acknowledged. "Then I'll have to disprove you, at least for Eli's sake." The voice was so calm and matter-of-fact that one could think the man was commenting on a book in an empty room, not talking to his lover's mother after overhearing a rather heated argument on his account.
"I hope you will," Maryann answered almost as matter-of-fact if a little more dry, and the two adults stared at each other.
Eli chose that moment to walk happily into the room balancing plates and glasses on one hand with the other full of silverware. "So, time for the greatest schni--" he began. "Am I interrupting something?" He looked from his mother to Rush.
"No, nothing." Maryann hurried to take the glasses that were dangerously tilting from her son's grip.
***
Eli tripped on a shoe and stumbled nearly losing grip on his bowl of popcorn.
"Careful," Rush grumbled from his usual seat in the corner, a book in his lap.
Eli maneuvered the bowl to the couch. "Who the hell left... oh." He glared at his own sneaker that has almost cost him his popcorn (and a vacuum cleaning).
Rush merely snorted from his seat. Which turned into a sigh as he heard the first sounds of the DVD Eli has chosen to waste his time on. Again. For the third time that week. Grumbling about ever outgrowing cartoon addictions under his breath he went back to his book.
Eli watched Futurama for a few minutes before his brain drifted to something else, something that's been plaguing him from the moment he returned to Earth. What he and Rush had was serious, no doubt about that. So there would come a moment when he would have to introduce his mom to his... he couldn't quite make himself call the older scientist 'boyfriend'. He snickered. And immediately hoped the amused sound would be attributed to what was going on on the screen, not to the teen title he's just called Rush in his head. He concentrated on the show for a couple more minutes before drifting to Rush and his mom again. She wouldn't be happy with his choice but she would come to accept it in the end, he was sure. The question was... would Rush accept his mom? Wouldn't the sick woman remind him too much of his own loss? "Ouch!" He was so deep in thought that he managed to bit his own fingers along with the popcorn.
"I knew the cartoons degenerated your brain but to the point of cannibalism..." Rush sniped from his corner ignoring Eli's glare.
The man was sometimes downright infuriating! And he was being concerned with his 'fragile psyche' here. Eli shook his head. Let the bastard deal with his own demons.
"Are you alright?" A few moments there was a hand on his shoulder, and another hand took his abused fingers from his mouth. "There's no blood," Rush commented, concern seeping through his blank expression, breath, dangerously close to Eli's face, ruffling hair above his brow.
On the other hand... not. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," Eli assured with a beam. "Want some?" He held the bowl of popcorn in front of the older man.
Rush made a face and already opened his mouth to comment on the junk Eli's been stuffing himself with but Eli put the bowl away with a sigh. "I get it." So much for the caring 'boyfriend'. He snickered earning himself a raised eyebrow and no doubt another comment about his intelligence ready on the tip of the other man's tongue. "No, I just remembered that moment with Bender."
Rush almost rolled his eyes. "Spare me. It is more than enough that you watch this stupidity, but thinking about it while watching it... I doubt it might become contagious."
Eli looked in time to see a hint of a smile flicking through Rush's sour expression. The younger man's face softened. "Hey, at least then we'll have something in common," he teased back.
"I'm sure we can think of something more... intelligent than that," Rush retorted, his face visibly straining to remain serious.
"Like what? Opera? Or your cheesy Western movies?" Eli smirked.
"Not as 'cheesy'," Rush said the word with obvious distaste, "as your daft cartoons."
"You haven't given them a chance!" Eli protested.
"The same could be said about you and the Western movies," Rush countered.
"I've watched enough Western movies, and can you say that you've watched at least one episode of Futurama? From beginning till the end? Honestly?"
"Then you haven't watched them right. And no, I didn't feel the need to."
"See?" Eli beamed triumphant. "You know what? You watch this DVD with me, and I'll watch one of your movies with you, the way you think is right. Deal?" He stretched a hand towards the older man. "Or are you afraid you'll actually like it?" he couldn't help baiting.
Rush snorted in answer. "Speak for yourself, young man," he returned and shook Eli's hand.
"Here," Eli moved to make space on the couch and patted the place beside himself. Rush sat down with a sigh immediately folding arms on his chest. Eli sighed. "Relax a little, will you? Noone's going to torture you."
"If you're going to talk I won't hear the dialogues. Not that I mind," Rush said without changing his pose. Eli rolled his eyes. The man was infuriating as hell, but his psyche deserved to be protected no matter how much he sniped and grumbled. So Eli would have to think of something to make the older man's meeting with Eli's mother safe and pleasant. Or he will have to trust the other man with his ability to block anything and everything out including his own emotions and memories. There was nothing good in suppressing them but just this once Eli was glad for Rush's acquired coldness. But still he'll have to soften the impression... A familiar sound has broken his train of thought.
"Hey! You agreed to watch the whole disc!" Eli protested as the DVD slid out of the player.
"I did." Rush gave him a strange look. "The disc ended five minutes ago."
"Oh." Eli blinked. "Okay then. Now it's your turn." He attempted to beam at Rush, still a little dazed from the sudden return from the thoughtland.
He tried to concentrate on the movie, he really did. He even listened to Rush's comments on the happenings which made it a little more interesting... but halfway into the movie Eli still drifted off, his head nestled into the crook of Rush's neck, a peaceful smile on his face and a small smirk on Rush's.
***
I'm talking to him. I really do. It's so strange... It feels like I haven't done it for a long time, very long, but it can't be right --- I haven't left this room for a long time. Very long. And he was always here, always by my side. I don't actually remember it. It's so strange... I don't remember him being near but I know he was, all the time. My poor darling. He should spend more time outside. It's so stifling here. Has he aired the room today? He should. It's so stuffy I can't breathe. My poor darling. He looks so concerned. Why is he concerned? Is it evening? Why doesn't he turn the lights on? It's not like my eyes would hurt. They won't, honest. Oh, it's so beautiful. The colours. Black and red, the combination is mystically magnetic, so beautiful. It should have a tune. Dark but not heavy. I should play it's tune. Where is my violin? My violin. I can't play. Why can't I play? I should. There is a tune I should play. What was it? I don't remember. Can't remember. Remember. Can't. What can't I remember? It's so strange. The colours. I should--
***
She lay on the bed. The skin grey and dry, like an old parchment, hanging on the once beautiful face like it was washed and stretched and dried just wrong making it a couple sizes too big and rumpled, cracked. Like an ill treated boot. The bony hands were a shade darker than the sheets they lay on, the bones and joints too prominent, like they were going to rip through the paper-like skin if the woman attempted to move them. A sigh escaped from the pale chapped lips, too quiet too be a word, too strained and wheezy.
Rush checked the dropper --- the bag half full, painkillers dripping steadily.
Another sigh escaped the sleeping woman, longer, slower, more strained. The face crumpled in a grimace, hairless head and dark circles around her sunken eyes making her look like a creature from a third rate horror film or the old-fashioned Nosferatu of the twenties. Then the breathing changed. Shallow and erratic, it seemed like the woman was in pain, and Rush checked the IV again, carefully, panic seeping from his every move. He took a deep breath remembering the nurse's instructions and reached for the bedside table when the woman's breathing deepened. He sighed a sigh of relief.
"Nicholas?" He almost didn't recognize the voice. It was so hoarse and wheezy, so quiet. And it was so long since she has last called him by his name...
"I'm here," he answered taking his wife's hand, instinctively as quiet.
"Good," she said, the eyes opening a crack, the lids heavy and lashless. She turned her head a few degrees, just enough to look at her husband, and it was an effort not to cringe at the murky, lifeless look of her eyes. "Air the room?"
"Of course," he nodded. Something was wrong. The breathing was deep, deeper than it's been in a while but Gloria still sounded breathless, more breathless than usual. "How do you feel?" he asked, more to make her talk, to hear her talking, to him, than anything else.
"Fine," she whispered, panting now, short wheezy inhales followed by coughing exhales.
Rush froze. His brain was yelling at him to do something, to move, reach for the medicine kept in the bedside table, to call the nurse, but he could only watch mortified as his wife took heavy erratic breaths, her chest lifting from the bed from the effort, her head falling back. Another inhale, longer than any of the others, strained and painful looking, making the frail chest arch above the sheets, and then her body sagged. It took his shuttered brain a whole minute to comprehend that her eyes were open and unmoving. It took another minute to start moving, to get up from the floor he didn't remember falling to, make a tentative step to the bed and lift the shaking hand to check the pulse on the woman's neck. And then his body moved on it's own, a hand sliding over her eyes closing them then down to a bony hand lying on the sheets, lifting it his lips for a soft, absent kiss, a single tear rolling on a stubbled cheek.
***
"Daddy?"
Rush cursed under his breath, straightened and walked the last few steps to the bed taking the occupant's frail, bony hand his his and lifting it to his lips. "Yes, dearie?" He smiled. A strained, fake smile accented by his pained expression, the lines deep around his eyes.
The woman beamed at him, chapped lips stretching on the parchment-like face, the childlike expression a contrast to the murky, sunken eyes of a sick delusional person. A stab of guilt. Sharp. Merciless.
"Gloria bored," she croaked and started coughing, the fit shaking the thin body.
"Easy." He lifted her upper body and held her until the fit ended then helped her to lie back down.
She looked up at him, a pitiful pout on her lips. Rush sighed.
"I'll read you a book," he said making the woman beam.
A few minutes later she was sleeping, an occasional wheezy cough breaking through her lips. Rush closed the book, Alice in Wonderland, and rubbed his eyes. When was the last time she has called him by his name? Seemed like it was years ago, for too long he had to watch his wife deteriorate from a bright, sharp woman to angry and bitter to a delusional child, had to endure the naive blinking of the bruise-framed eyes, or worse still, blank stare when the painkillers were too strong suppressing her consciousness completely. He thought he was going to break, was sure he was going to break along with his dying wife. But maybe he was going to make it in the end. Of course he would have to deal with the guilt, but at least now it felt almost... bearable. He raked a hand through his hair with a sigh.
***
A hand left his hair ruffled making him look younger, roguish and even more weary.
"I'm just saying you should think about it," the man opposite him was saying. "It's a great opportunity, a great chance to discover something the humanity wouldn't have even discovered. Just think of the possibilities of this research!" The blue eyes stared at his intently, earnest, passionate. "Please, just think about it for a couple of days," the man pleaded. Was it even possible for a face to be that expressive without being grotesque? Because the other scientist spoke not only with his voice, he spoke with his eyes, his whole face, his whole body.
"I will," Rush promised knowing full well he had a lot of other things to think about, more important than any mind shuttering discovery that would no doubt change the world history.
The man turned his head down a fraction looking at Rush through his lashes which was probably supposed to be an intent glower but turned out a little too cute. Then the man proceeded to bite his lip in obvious thought narrowing his eyes behind the glasses. "You know what," he said. "I could tell you more about the project, just some details that can help you make a decision, but it's not something we should discuss in public." He looked at the pub around them, people chatting and laughing, noone caring about a couple of men in the far corner. "Oh, and I have a very nice bottle of Margaux Bordeaux," he beamed.
Rush sighed. The last thing he wanted was an idle chat with a bottle of wine with the American scientist. But the said scientist seemed to have a bulldog's bite under the cheerful, friendly facade, and he had a feeling denying him now would bring a lot more 'friendly encounters' later. "I have to make a call," he said reaching for his cell phone.
"Sure," the other man beamed carefully not triumphant.
Rush checked that the nurse would be with his wife for at least a couple more hours and nearly made a face as his companion paid for their drinks while he was busy on the phone then followed the man out of the pub and into a cab.
A short ride later they were in a hotel, and Rush followed the other man into his room. The light turned on revealing a standard single, clean and neat, a suitcase in a corner and a shirt on the back of the only chair. Rush chose to sit on the edge of the neatly made twin bed, and a minute later his host handed him a glass of red wine and made a random toast. They drank in silence for some time, Rush stiff on the edge of the bed and the other scientist relaxing into his chair until finally the man spoke.
"Why do you refuse the project so much?" he asked conversationally. "You seem like a brilliant scientist, striving for knowledge, someone I expected to be the first to clutch to the idea of researching the unknown. What stops you?" He raised both brows at Rush taking a sip of his wine.
"I have other... more pressing concerns on my mind," Rush answered, his expression guarded. His companion sighed.
"I'd like to tell you something... if you don't mind my personal experience. I think it can be of some relevance." The man looked somber, and Rush sighed. He wanted to be rude and tell the man he didn't care about his 'personal experience' whatever that was, it couldn't be relevant to his situation, but doing that... would have consequences, and he couldn't calculate what, so in the end he decided to let the man talk. Maybe then he would finally leave Rush alone. He nodded his agreement to listen.
"I lost my wife," the man said, and Rush stifled another sigh preparing for a sappy story of a terrible car accident or a fatal illness ending in a customary suggestion to bury himself in work. "I know what you might think," the man said hastily, "but it's not like that. She was... taken away, and I searched for her for a long time until she got killed in front of my eyes." He stopped for a moment rubbing his eyes. "I," he continued looking at Rush, "couldn't go on, couldn't continue the job that has taken her away, couldn't work with the people that... let it happen. But there was this person. He was there for me when Sha're was first taken away, and he was the one to put me back together when she was... gone for good. He bugged me, didn't let me go a single day without a dozen calls, invited himself for beer," he smiled fondly, the gaze far away, and it was apparent there was more to the story than the scientist was telling. "So in the end... I gave up. There was another reason for me to start working again, but the one who really pulled me out of my grief was that person. So, yes, here's the part when I suggest you bury yourself in work to keep yourself from thinking too much, but it's important to have someone to be there for you, to put you back together." He smiled sincere, eyes bright, and earnest, and trusting. "And it can be awfully impolite but..." The face turned sheepish, and he rubbed his hands together. "I just might be that someone. I mean, I know what you're going through, and maybe..." He shrugged.
Maybe it was the wine talking, or maybe he was just too tired, but Rush just turned his head down without answering. It was so tempting. There was a hand on his, and Rush looked up it see a vibrant blue gaze a little too close for his comfort.
"Dr. Jackson, I don't think--"
"Daniel," the man corrected with a smile. And Rush just gave up. His body moved on its own closing the distance and kissing Daniel on the lips, clumsily, making the man's glasses hang askew on his nose. Daniel made a surprised noise pulling away then took his glasses off and put them carefully on the bedside table, a hand sliding along the frame, leaning in to return the kiss. Rush latched onto his lips, a hand lifting to grasp the back of Daniel's head keeping him in place, impatient tongue probing his lips and surging forward when Daniel opened his mouth with a sigh. Another hand clutched the front of Daniel's cream sweater, pulling him from his seat, bringing him closer, stretching the soft material, and Daniel moved bringing a knee to the bed, resting his weight on a leg at Rush's side and a hand on the other, pushing the smaller man further onto the bed, their mouths still locked passionately. A lot of pulling and fumbling later they were sprawled on the bed with Daniel on his elbows and knees over Rush, his hands framing the other man's head like a protecting shield, his breath ghosting over Rush's neck as he struggled with their belts and flies. A breathy moan escaped Daniel as Rush finally won his battle against the fabric sneaking a hand into the younger scientist's jeans.
"Let me," Daniel breathed into Rush's ear trailing his lips over the lobe, one hand stroking down Rush's body to push his pants down and free his straining cock, wringing a grunt from his as the hand wrapped around his length stroking in a slow sensual movement. Rush arched into the touch, his hips lifting off the bed, another grunt smothered between clenched teeth. He started stroking Daniel's erection, hard, squeezing a touch too tight, and Daniel bit his lip before lying half on top of Rush, one leg sprawled awkwardly over the other man's hips, trapping both their hands between their bodies. "Don't," he whispered, his mouth sliding over Rush's cheekbone in a series of small bites and licks, as Rush tried to free his hand, to start stroking again. Daniel shifted to let himself take both Rush's hands in his bringing them over his head, pressing both wrists to the bed in one hand in a surprisingly strong grip, then shifting again to let his free hand slide between their bodies and take both cocks stroking them together, slow, steady.
Rush groaned and bucked, both to increase the friction and to take control of the situation back, but Daniel pressed him into the bed stilling the movements, his rhythm tantalizingly slow, deliberate, grounding.
"Let it go," he whispered as he bit along Rush's jaw line, stubble catching on the soft lips.
A few more movements, and Rush did. He sighed his release as he arched against Daniel, his whole body straining to lift off the bed under the larger man, the head thrown back, eyes open and unseeing, mouth open in a painfully long, shuddery inhale. A few moments, and he sagged against the bed, the air leaving his lips, eyes still open and unblinking.
Daniel wiped his hand on the covers and shifted off Rush releasing his hands, settling against his side to stroke the other man's hair. Rush lay unmoving for a minute as if his body refused to cooperate then in a blink he was tense again sliding both hands over his face, raking them through his hair.
"I'm sorry," he said, arms moving to wrap around himself. "You probably didn't mean it that way--"
Daniel put a finger against his mouth shaking his head. "You needed it," he said simply. "You still do."
"And you always do what others need," Rush sniped against Daniel's finger, defensive, making the man smile.
"No," he said, "I don't." He moved his hand from Rush's lips over his cheek to the back of his head and pulled until Rush moved with him angling his face to Daniel's. But as he prepared for a sappy post coital kiss Daniel changed direction a fraction, and Rush ended with his face in the crook of Daniel's neck, both of the man's arms snaking around him in a loose but steady embrace.
Something poked Rush in a thigh, and he pushed against it making Daniel bite his lip and shift uncomfortably.
"Sorry, I should--"
"No," Daniel shook his head. "You shouldn't."
Rush moved his head to look at him skeptically.
"No, really," Daniel said. "It's okay." He shifted again to hide his no doubt painful erection from the other man.
Rush stared at him for a moment frowning, but Daniel pushed his head back onto his shoulder, and Rush surrendered with a shuddering sigh.
A thought of Gloria came unbidden along with painful guilt, and he buried his face deeper into the soft sweater, arms sliding to wrap around the other man's back.
Part B