Fandom: Fringe
title: Constant
fandom: Fringe
characters/pairings: alt!Broyles/alt!Astrid intimacy (but not exactly shippy), alt!Broyles/his wife
rating: PG-13
word count: 800
warning: implied canon character death
summary: When Broyles can't bear to go home to his wife after a long day he goes to Astrid. Very mild spoilers for S3Ep7
A/N: Please no spoilers beyond S3Ep12 in the comments
There are days Broyles can’t face going home to his family right after work. As if the horrors of the day were still clinging to his skin like abrasions healing too slowly, infecting the flesh below, poisoning even the marrow of his bones. And Broyles cannot, will not allow himself to take these marks back to Diane and the kids.
He calls. He always calls. And Diane understands. She wants to help any way she can and knows that sometimes letting him bury the pain inside to protect her and the children is what he needs, even if it’s making him more troubled every day. He loves her for giving him this illusion of being able to keep his family as far from it all as possible. It’s a lie, of course, but it’s all that’s keeping him going some days.
What Diane doesn’t know is where Broyles goes the evenings he spends away from home. If she asked he would tell her, it’s not strictly speaking a secret, but she never does and deep down he’s relieved.
He and Astrid always take separate cars to her apartment. Not to keep up the illusion of being able to avoid being found out (nothing really remains secret for long here), besides, it’s not like they are doing anything illicit. But Astrid always drives home alone, always taking the longer route not to pass any ambered areas, always stopping at the all night grocery store just two blocks from her flat, no matter how late it is. Broyles follows and buys Chinese next to the grocery store, knowing Astrid would only cook for one even when knowing he’d be coming over.
Once at her flat he watches her cook with quick efficiently, just like she does everything else. She has phases where she will eat the same for weeks, sometimes months, then will switch to something else from one day to the next. Broyles likes to think he can predict when the switch will happen, but he only got it right once by accident. This is his favourite part: sitting on the couch, watching Astrid repeat the exact same movements over and over and over again, like on a loop. It calms him to have something so predictable in his life.
When Astrid comes back from the kitchen she brings him a fork - one of the few direct acknowledgments of his presence. They eat in silence side by side but not even looking at each other: both in their own minds, both for different reasons. After dinner they watch TV. If they are home early enough for Astrid’s favourite show they watch that, if not, she will put on the one episode she has recorded - Broyles has seen it exactly 51 times over the past couple of years and he knows most of the lines by heart now. Sometimes he watches the flickering images reflected in Astrid’s dark eyes instead of the screen.
Sometimes they talk, but little. There is not much in their lives apart from their work. Astrid sometimes talks about things she’s read, eyes always directed somewhere above Broyles’ head, or just a bit to the right, sometimes she addresses the TV. Broyles has only his family to talk about. He likes that, likes the lack of a proper conversation and the absence of all the cliché responses to his son’s condition. Most of the time he’s not even sure Astrid can hear him. But then every once in a while when he says things about Christopher and his own guilt that he would never tell another living soul Astrid looks him right into the eyes and it’s enough.
Once. Just once Broyles nearly let helpless tears fall as he was sitting there next to her and Astrid placed her hand on his. That was the first time she ever touched him. It was brief and then she got up and went to bed, not even waiting for Broyles to let himself out - just as usual.
But next time something changed - a small glitch in the pattern.
Instead of going to bed Astrid grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around herself and fell asleep on Broyles’ shoulder.
Since then he never leaves before morning and wakes on the couch with Astrid in his arms.
Sometimes he almost wants to tell Diane, even though she never worries and trusts him completely. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t. It’s not an affair - never will be. But it matters and sometimes Broyles finds it hard to reconcile with having something significant in his life that doesn’t involve his wife.
-----
One morning Colonel Broyles is late to work and Astrid is on edge.
That night she sits on the couch wrapped in a blanket, unable to sleep.
He was supposed to come over tonight.
fandom: Fringe
characters/pairings: alt!Broyles/alt!Astrid intimacy (but not exactly shippy), alt!Broyles/his wife
rating: PG-13
word count: 800
warning: implied canon character death
summary: When Broyles can't bear to go home to his wife after a long day he goes to Astrid. Very mild spoilers for S3Ep7
A/N: Please no spoilers beyond S3Ep12 in the comments
There are days Broyles can’t face going home to his family right after work. As if the horrors of the day were still clinging to his skin like abrasions healing too slowly, infecting the flesh below, poisoning even the marrow of his bones. And Broyles cannot, will not allow himself to take these marks back to Diane and the kids.
He calls. He always calls. And Diane understands. She wants to help any way she can and knows that sometimes letting him bury the pain inside to protect her and the children is what he needs, even if it’s making him more troubled every day. He loves her for giving him this illusion of being able to keep his family as far from it all as possible. It’s a lie, of course, but it’s all that’s keeping him going some days.
What Diane doesn’t know is where Broyles goes the evenings he spends away from home. If she asked he would tell her, it’s not strictly speaking a secret, but she never does and deep down he’s relieved.
He and Astrid always take separate cars to her apartment. Not to keep up the illusion of being able to avoid being found out (nothing really remains secret for long here), besides, it’s not like they are doing anything illicit. But Astrid always drives home alone, always taking the longer route not to pass any ambered areas, always stopping at the all night grocery store just two blocks from her flat, no matter how late it is. Broyles follows and buys Chinese next to the grocery store, knowing Astrid would only cook for one even when knowing he’d be coming over.
Once at her flat he watches her cook with quick efficiently, just like she does everything else. She has phases where she will eat the same for weeks, sometimes months, then will switch to something else from one day to the next. Broyles likes to think he can predict when the switch will happen, but he only got it right once by accident. This is his favourite part: sitting on the couch, watching Astrid repeat the exact same movements over and over and over again, like on a loop. It calms him to have something so predictable in his life.
When Astrid comes back from the kitchen she brings him a fork - one of the few direct acknowledgments of his presence. They eat in silence side by side but not even looking at each other: both in their own minds, both for different reasons. After dinner they watch TV. If they are home early enough for Astrid’s favourite show they watch that, if not, she will put on the one episode she has recorded - Broyles has seen it exactly 51 times over the past couple of years and he knows most of the lines by heart now. Sometimes he watches the flickering images reflected in Astrid’s dark eyes instead of the screen.
Sometimes they talk, but little. There is not much in their lives apart from their work. Astrid sometimes talks about things she’s read, eyes always directed somewhere above Broyles’ head, or just a bit to the right, sometimes she addresses the TV. Broyles has only his family to talk about. He likes that, likes the lack of a proper conversation and the absence of all the cliché responses to his son’s condition. Most of the time he’s not even sure Astrid can hear him. But then every once in a while when he says things about Christopher and his own guilt that he would never tell another living soul Astrid looks him right into the eyes and it’s enough.
Once. Just once Broyles nearly let helpless tears fall as he was sitting there next to her and Astrid placed her hand on his. That was the first time she ever touched him. It was brief and then she got up and went to bed, not even waiting for Broyles to let himself out - just as usual.
But next time something changed - a small glitch in the pattern.
Instead of going to bed Astrid grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around herself and fell asleep on Broyles’ shoulder.
Since then he never leaves before morning and wakes on the couch with Astrid in his arms.
Sometimes he almost wants to tell Diane, even though she never worries and trusts him completely. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t. It’s not an affair - never will be. But it matters and sometimes Broyles finds it hard to reconcile with having something significant in his life that doesn’t involve his wife.
-----
One morning Colonel Broyles is late to work and Astrid is on edge.
That night she sits on the couch wrapped in a blanket, unable to sleep.
He was supposed to come over tonight.