Chronology, Silent Witness Fanfic
Title: Chronology
Spoilers: For Bloodlines, I don't believe anyone managed to miss that :)
Summary: A post-ep for Bloodlines, I know it's hideously late, but I couldn't get these ideas out of my head, I finally got around to writing something :)
She turns up on his doorstep, about two weeks after they get home from Hungary. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her hands are shaking, and it looks like she's just got out of bed - possible, it's 3am - her hair is matted and she's thrown a coat and scarf over pyjamas and a jumper.
He doesn't say anything, can't think of anything to say. He hasn't been sleeping well, not since Hungary, not since Anna's murder, and she's actually interrupted him halfway through Die Hard 3 rather than a good night's sleep.
"I thought there'd be time." She echoes, "To know."
A tear runs down her cheek, and though he never heard her speak the words before, something about the timing of it all, something about the expression on her face - he almost knows what she's talking about.
"I didn't need any more time, not once I thought you were dead." She whispers, wiping her eyes fiercely.
He still doesn't say anything, ushers her inside, closes the door behind him. They're caught together in the narrow hallway, and she's close to him again, so close he feels her breath on his neck.
"Nikki…" he starts, pain in his voice, in his eyes, and, ashamed, she looks at her feet.
"I know this isn't the time, I know about Anna, and I know this is selfish, Harry, but I can't sleep, I can't think, I-" she cuts off, choking on a sob, "…I needed you to know, you should know…"
"Shhh." He whispers, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her face pressed into his neck, relieved she's stopped speaking.
"Anna was pregnant."
Her heart's breaking at the look on his face, the tears welling in his eyes, the knotting in her own stomach - guilt, disturbance, because despite how horrible this is, she can only remember her conversation with Leo hours before, her admission - she couldn't deny anymore that she'd been waiting for something to happen, waiting for Harry, and her time had run out, in more ways than one.
He's agitated, he starts to move, and she knows this thing is nowhere over; she just wishes she could stay wrapped in his arms on the steps of the memorial, relief flooding her mind, sobs racking her body, but all contained within his safety. Like he was, literally, holding her together.
He makes her a cup of tea, she raises her eyebrows slightly at the television, paused, and they sit at the kitchen counter, and they hardly say a word, taking comfort, retreating into the silence, until a sob shakes through her again and he reaches out and pulls her head to his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"I'm so sorry, Nikki." He breathes; the words he seems to have said thousands of times since she saw him alive. Every tear she sheds secretly, every frown he sees on her face when she doesn't even know it, he knows he's put there. Hours of thinking he was dead seem to have broken her down irreversibly.
"I didn't know what I was going to do without you." She hisses between sobs, fisting his T-shirt, closing her eyes, tensed and curled against him, pain etched into her features. "There were so many things I needed to say."
"I need to bring him home."
She hangs up the phone, books the flight, powers down her computer in an almost regal composed silence.
She's shaking as she stands up, but she grits her teeth. She flies out in the morning; this becomes more than some distant phone call saying something she can't even believe to be true.
She can't pinpoint the moment she breaks, she thinks she's lost a few moments there, but she finds herself on the floor, curled over, hugging her knees, uncontrollable sobs shaking through her.
"I need him back, I need him…" she whispers over and over, the words becoming her mantra.
"Shhh," he runs a hand lightly over her hair, rocking her slightly, his lips dangerously close to her forehead, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
"I thought we'd have time." She says slowly, looking up, straight into his face, more direct that she's been for weeks, "You and I, I thought we'd have time."
She watches his face crease in pain, and she knows it's too early, she knows he's mourning Anna, she shouldn't be here, he isn't hers to lose, and she closes her eyes again.
She's asking too much. She's asking for something she never really had, something that was never really a possibility, something she could only ever have hoped for.
He presses his lips to her forehead, rests his forehead against hers.
"We still have time." He breathes, so low it's almost inaudible.
It's enough, for now.
Spoilers: For Bloodlines, I don't believe anyone managed to miss that :)
Summary: A post-ep for Bloodlines, I know it's hideously late, but I couldn't get these ideas out of my head, I finally got around to writing something :)
She turns up on his doorstep, about two weeks after they get home from Hungary. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her hands are shaking, and it looks like she's just got out of bed - possible, it's 3am - her hair is matted and she's thrown a coat and scarf over pyjamas and a jumper.
He doesn't say anything, can't think of anything to say. He hasn't been sleeping well, not since Hungary, not since Anna's murder, and she's actually interrupted him halfway through Die Hard 3 rather than a good night's sleep.
"I thought there'd be time." She echoes, "To know."
A tear runs down her cheek, and though he never heard her speak the words before, something about the timing of it all, something about the expression on her face - he almost knows what she's talking about.
"I didn't need any more time, not once I thought you were dead." She whispers, wiping her eyes fiercely.
He still doesn't say anything, ushers her inside, closes the door behind him. They're caught together in the narrow hallway, and she's close to him again, so close he feels her breath on his neck.
"Nikki…" he starts, pain in his voice, in his eyes, and, ashamed, she looks at her feet.
"I know this isn't the time, I know about Anna, and I know this is selfish, Harry, but I can't sleep, I can't think, I-" she cuts off, choking on a sob, "…I needed you to know, you should know…"
"Shhh." He whispers, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her face pressed into his neck, relieved she's stopped speaking.
"Anna was pregnant."
Her heart's breaking at the look on his face, the tears welling in his eyes, the knotting in her own stomach - guilt, disturbance, because despite how horrible this is, she can only remember her conversation with Leo hours before, her admission - she couldn't deny anymore that she'd been waiting for something to happen, waiting for Harry, and her time had run out, in more ways than one.
He's agitated, he starts to move, and she knows this thing is nowhere over; she just wishes she could stay wrapped in his arms on the steps of the memorial, relief flooding her mind, sobs racking her body, but all contained within his safety. Like he was, literally, holding her together.
He makes her a cup of tea, she raises her eyebrows slightly at the television, paused, and they sit at the kitchen counter, and they hardly say a word, taking comfort, retreating into the silence, until a sob shakes through her again and he reaches out and pulls her head to his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"I'm so sorry, Nikki." He breathes; the words he seems to have said thousands of times since she saw him alive. Every tear she sheds secretly, every frown he sees on her face when she doesn't even know it, he knows he's put there. Hours of thinking he was dead seem to have broken her down irreversibly.
"I didn't know what I was going to do without you." She hisses between sobs, fisting his T-shirt, closing her eyes, tensed and curled against him, pain etched into her features. "There were so many things I needed to say."
"I need to bring him home."
She hangs up the phone, books the flight, powers down her computer in an almost regal composed silence.
She's shaking as she stands up, but she grits her teeth. She flies out in the morning; this becomes more than some distant phone call saying something she can't even believe to be true.
She can't pinpoint the moment she breaks, she thinks she's lost a few moments there, but she finds herself on the floor, curled over, hugging her knees, uncontrollable sobs shaking through her.
"I need him back, I need him…" she whispers over and over, the words becoming her mantra.
"Shhh," he runs a hand lightly over her hair, rocking her slightly, his lips dangerously close to her forehead, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
"I thought we'd have time." She says slowly, looking up, straight into his face, more direct that she's been for weeks, "You and I, I thought we'd have time."
She watches his face crease in pain, and she knows it's too early, she knows he's mourning Anna, she shouldn't be here, he isn't hers to lose, and she closes her eyes again.
She's asking too much. She's asking for something she never really had, something that was never really a possibility, something she could only ever have hoped for.
He presses his lips to her forehead, rests his forehead against hers.
"We still have time." He breathes, so low it's almost inaudible.
It's enough, for now.