Keeping Up Appearances - Fic for Bump in the Night Verse

[open_flame]

Characters: Liz Sherman -Harkness, Jack Harkness
Mentions for Nathan Petrelli, Trevor and Thomas Harkness
Fandom: Hellboy/Torchwood
Setting: Bump in the Night Verse
Rating: R (language, angst)
Word Count: 2600 Total
Prompts: 100_fairytales 062: Keeping up Appearances
Song – Letting the Cables Sleep: Bush
AN: Takes place Approx 2 Month after "The Brother Incident" captain_flyboy  and prezstandsalone used with full permission and full approval of their actions by their mun.

-4 Days Before Departure-

It's almost cute, the way Trevor keeps questioning me. Sometimes I think that kid's too smart for his own good. I shouldn't be surprised; he and his brother figured out that Jack and I aren't exactly normal despite of how hard we tried to keep it from them. “But, why do I have to be lookout? You're not doing anything wrong.” I shoot him a look when his feet hit the cupboard doors. He's on the counter, just like I sit when I'm trying to...level with someone. Level the playing field. Of course, that's stupid. I'm the mom, he's the son. What I say...goes.

“Nope, I'm not. I'm not supposed to work and I'm not. Doctor's orders.” My voice twinges just enough at that word. I think it always will. That man...not technically a man. This is his fault, if you really think about it. Back then...years ago, when Jack and I were in Peru with Indy and Mutt. If that damn Doctor hadn't left his stupid little toy laying around for Jack to find, Hellboy and I would be...I don't know. I'd have grown to love Red the way he loved me; I'd have fallen out of love with Jack and in love with Red. Eventually.

Everything from the kitchen is spread out on the floor; tools, cans of food, recipe books. The doctors said I couldn't work, that it's dangerous for the baby. I wanted to tell them I was stabbed with an immortal-killing spear and dragged halfway across the world with the last two babies and it was fine. If I...if all three of us could live though that, what the hell is so dangerous about some paperwork? They can't tell me not to work. They can't tell me...how to live my life. If I can't be an agent, if I can't do my job, I'm doing my other one. I'm being a mom, and moms need to know we have 4 cans of balsamic glazed tomatoes and that we're out of capers.

“Ma...?” Trevor’s voice is worried, but it always is, especially lately, so I do what I always do; I do what Jack and I agreed to do…somehow, without saying a word to each other: I pretend everything’s fine. “One more cupboard then I'm done.” It's a lie, Trevor knows it and I know it too. I also know Jack's not coming home...again. The boys silence is easily bought with a new video game, so I could do this all night and my husband will never know. “No, Ma,” Trevor starts again before I hold up my hand. It works; it works for Jack and it works for me too. Trevor doesn't say another word for at least a minute.

I'm almost done mentally filling away the fact I don't particularly enjoy capers...in anything... when I hear it that sound that at this moment is scaring me worse than a troll growling or a banshee screaming. Jack's keys hitting the counter. The sound that was like music to my ears only months ago now stops me cold. That sound that used to make my heart leap in that beautiful way, when I would be waiting for him to come home and scoop me up in his arms and kiss me, now...feel a little like a judges gavel, banging down as I wait for my sentence.

“Dad! You're home!” Our son's off the counter in a minute, knocking over the stacks of cans as he runs over to Jack, the fact he was SUPPOSED to be my lookout forgotten in his excitement to have his father home very early. I keep staring at the cans, knowing there's no possible way out of this. I'm...caught. Red handed....tomato handed.

Great.


-3 Days Before Departure-

“You are not my boss, Petrelli!” I'm adding fuel to the fire, and I don't honestly care. Jack won't back me up, and the doctors here at the BPRD, despite the fact they know I could mess them up if I was allowed to have a gun right now, didn't exactly put anything favorable in that report on my health. So what? Doctors! What the hell does a doctor know anyway?

“Jack is my boss and even if he told me to...” I stop screaming at Nathan and wait. Wait for Jack to do something but stand there leaning against the wall. Wait for him to say something; to defend me, protect me, be my fucking husband... but there's nothing. Nothing but that familiar silence.

“You are on leave,” Nathan's sounding so much like Manning, I want to put my fist though his face. “You were instructed, for your health and the health of your child to remain on bedrest until further notice. You disobeyed...”

Disobeyed.... He had better not have just said that to me.

“I was...making dinner!” I wait for Jack to snort, to snicker to do anything, but when I look at him, he's oddly fascinated with his own boots. Asshole. “You can't tell me to stop being a mother, Senator. You don't...get it. You don't understand!” I spit back with all that anger that's been building for weeks but had no way out.

“You are going to lose your baby if you don't start taking this seriously!” Nathan's voice climbs a little higher before he slides the freshly printed medical evaluation before me. I'd call him on his bullshit but...

Oh...my God.

“I...” I reach for the paper, but it's like Jack's stopping time or something and he's got it before I do even though he's six feet away and I’m inches from it. The paper's crumpled and in the trash bin a second later, after Jack reads it over. Nathan and my essentially estranged husband discuss in hushed tones...what to do with me. At least I assume that's what they're talking about, because a moment later I hear Nathan say the word island and Jack nods before stepping back. Not...next to me, like part of me wants him to. Not there by my side where I hate admitting I need him to be but back by the door. Jack stops...and looks right though me, right at Nathan as he waits for conformation of the 'plan'.

“Go home and pack. I'll arrange the flight.” Nathan ignores me too, even after Jack leaves and I'm up in Senator Superiority’s face with a million words mothers should never say out loud, least of all to their co workers.

...But, I don't give a fuck.

“...like a fucking zoo animal!” I finish, just in time for a black suit to stick his head in Nathan's office then back out just as fast.

The next thing he does, I'm not expecting. I know he's not Manning but there are similarities. Can't name any off the top of my head, but they're there. They have to be.He's a government appointed asshole, and government appointed assholes do not have my best interests in mind. Never have, never will.

“Liz,” There's something familiar in his voice when he puts his hand on my shoulder. I pull back, because...I don't even know. I just don't want him touching me. It's not the government issued babysitter thing, either. There's something...so not Manning about that tone of his voice and that look in his eyes. Like someone else I grew up around. It's enough to make a chill run down my spine when he adds, “Have faith.”


-The night before departure-

I'm packed. I didn't even do anything. I sort of doubt Jack did anything either, now that I think about it. I'm sure our PA....his PA, Sarah was over here with professional trip planners, getting all the Ts crossed and the dotted lines signed. All I know is that half my closet's in our expensive matching but just slightly different designer luggage, in the foyer, waiting for tomorrows limo. I know it's a limo because the boys are freaking out, wonder what the occasion is. Jack told them it was a surprise. He flashed that smile and ruffled their hair and acted like everything was fucking peachy.

I took everything in me to not look Jack in the eyes and answer 'Your family's falling apart, boys. I want a divorce, but seeing as your father has an awful habit of forgetting these wonderful little things called condoms because his brain goes to compete shit when he doesn't get laid on a regular basis, we can't. We can't. I can't because I'm pregnant again, and your father's got a split personality that would probably snap if I took you both and left, anyway. So, we're going to an island and pretending everything is just fine. Yeah, an island, because everyone knows how much I love being surrounded by miles of water with no possible way to escape. Especially your father. This kind of occasion calls for a limo.'

Yeah,somehow, I don't think that's gonna make the boys understand what's happening here any better.

Or me for that matter.

I'm focusing really hard on the fact the most unsexy nightgown I could find matches the black stripes in the comforter as I...observe the ritual. The same ritual Jack and I have followed for weeks...months maybe. I can't even remember. Silence. I can hear the clock on the wall ticking, and hear the way Jack's feet hit the floor just a tiny bit softer when he doesn't have his boots on. He's brushing his teeth...so much more than usual lately. Can he even get cavities? Wouldn't they just...delete when he reset? Why bother...I'm not gonna be kissing him. I'm not going to...be near him. Nice thing about a bed this size; I can pretend to sleep, and Jack...won't even touch me. It's like the cocoon of blankets I make every night he's actually home is electrified, and he won't dare touch it.

The worst part: I want him to. I miss him.

How is it even possible to miss someone, yet be sickened at the very idea of them begin near you at the same time? How can you love....and hate the same thing? Why is he so...confusing. We've been together so long...and I still feel like I know nothing about him. Like I know less now than I did when I was a child and he was telling me dramatically edited stories of Time Agent adventures and bringing me film for my Polaroid camera.

How did this happen? Why did this happen? I don't even know, and I am so afraid to ask.

I remember one thing; one thing that is always true. Don't push. Jack is not the kind of man who responds well to confrontation, anyone who's ever tried to pick a fight with him knows this, and I think I probably hold the world record for fights picked with Captain Jack Harkness. I know exactly what he does in response to that confrontation, too. He runs...

They used to ask me in the hospital where I learned that, and I never told them. Not that I needed to; I was an easy read back then, not like I am now. But the habits are still the same.

I got scared, I wanted to run. I would have run, if not for those two little boys sleeping in the room down the hall and...whoever this little person inside me is that's starting to make my stomach look a little fat.

And Jack...I'll bet you anything if I give him one more excuse to drop his keys on the counter for the last time...he'll take it. He left...Alice. He didn't want to, but he did. And something tells me Alice's mother was a lot less of a bitch than I can be.


There's that click I never noticed until recently, the click that means Jack's teeth are perfectly fresh from the dentist clean if that toothbrush's box is telling the truth. That means I have one minute and 15....maybe 30 seconds before he walks back in here.

I could...say something. I mean, other than the obligatory “how was your day?” or “we're out of capers, if you want to cook something with capers.” I could say...so much.

I love you.
I miss you.

I hate you.
I hate...that I need you.

I hate that you don't need me as much as you need ...you.

But I don't. I never say a word as I unceremoniously build that nest of covers and hide my face in my pillow, trying to ignore the fact that the way he makes everything smell makes my heart break and my eyes sting with tears that I am never going to let him see. I need to wash the bedding again when we get back. I can't...I can't take that smell.

I crack one eye open as I count down the time in my head. 37 second...give or take. He stops, there at my side of the bed, for maybe 10 seconds. He's seeing if I'm asleep. I wonder if he knows I'm not. I'm great at pretending but tonight my breathing's not as rhythmic as it usual is, because of these damn tears leaking onto my pillow. That's it...blame the tears. The tears he caused.

I don't move, I count the 3 seconds between inhale and exhale and wait. What happens next is like clockwork, the sound of him pulling the covers on his side up to cover his pillow. It's the same every night; I'm under them, he's over them. Just another barrier, another precaution. Another thing I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life.

But it's cold, and he gets cold. I'm not evil, I don't want Jack to freeze. I roll my head around, wiping the tears on the pillow case before I peek out with one eye, half an eye really. Maybe...one blanket. Just one, and only if he really looks cold.

He doesn't look cold though. He looks remarkable comfortable in that same old uniform; white t shirt, blue boxers, which he's wearing every night now. Even Sunday. But...Sunday's aren't exactly for just the two of us anymore. They haven't been for a long time. Weeks...more than weeks. I don't even know.

It's not surprising though. Why bother coming to bed naked if you're not gonna get laid or even...touched? Seems like dumping salt on a wound if you ask me.

He's staring at the ceiling. Not blinking or moving, hardly breathing...hardly alive unless you notice that little vein that runs along that point where his neck and shoulder meet. The almost undetectable pulsing, every time his heart beats. I could reach out and touch him, right there. Right at that little, seemingly insignificant place on his neck. I could feel it pulsing just a little bit faster...if I touched him...but I don't. I can't.

Jack's doing...the same thing I do when he's not here. Just staring. God I wonder what he's thinking. I probably don't want to know, though. I'm sure it's not anything I want to know. I could...ask him but I don't. I won't. I won't say I word, and neither will he.

This is what we do now.

We live... in silence.