'In the Fullness of Time', J/D, rated PG
~1,600 words, set a couple of years from now.
princessofg and
troyswann performed admirable beta duties, making this a much better and clearer story. My thanks to both of them, and special mention to
starting_gate and
delphia2000 for helping me over a rough spot, when words failed and I flailed!
IN THE FULLNESS OF TIME
The chocolate-brown carpet was thick and luxurious. Daniel seemed to sink into it with every step. The walls of the corridor were hung with a silken damask paper, ivory and golden beige. High on the left-hand wall, a row of elegant electric sconces receded into the distance. The open door at the end of the hallway seemed a long way off, and Daniel tried to count the sconces to estimate how much farther he had to go. But he was confused by the fact that the perspective was off, askew, out of kilter. The corridor should look narrower at the far end, but instead it seemed to sweep open in a dizzying fashion.
But the doorway he was headed toward was small. Looked small, smaller even than was to be expected. Still, Daniel could see the revealed sliver of the well-lit room very clearly, could see people circulating, see the jewel-tones of the women’s dresses, eclipsed by and in turn eclipsing the darker tones of the men’s suits. A white-jacketed waiter with a tray of cocktails swept past the door, and there in his wake was Jack.
Faint murmurs of conversation, laughter, the clink of glasses, a band warming up somewhere in the remote and concealed recesses of the room.
Jack in dark charcoal-gray, head turned, smiling at Daniel.
Daniel’s feet stopped moving. He looked down at them. Something flickered, reflected in the high polish of his shoes.
He looked to his right. A doorway he hadn’t noticed, with the door flung open wide as if to say ‘welcome’, and a fireplace against the far wall beckoning warmly. He turned and stepped closer. Deep, comfortable-looking leather chairs were grouped around the fireplace. Bookshelves came into view.
Jack’s voice, very faint.
A library. He took another step. A circular library. Daniel crossed the threshold, his gaze sweeping around the room eagerly. Books, floor to ceiling, shelves gently curving into the shape of the room. Narrow open spiral staircases nestled into the round corners at either end of the wall containing the fireplace. Daniel tilted his head back, staring through the open center of the structure. Up, up and up. The library soared more stories than he could see. Light flooded down through vast windows that crowned the head-high shelves lining the exterior curve of each grilled walkway of a floor. Wrought-iron safety railings ringed the interior curves.
Two floors up, a white-haired man leafed through a book. A floor above him, two young women were scanning shelves, pulling books out, looking at the covers and pushing them back in. There was movement visible much higher up, and the sound of hard soles on metal steps echoed distantly in the otherwise hushed atmosphere.
A wave of laughter and raucous music from the party at the end of the hallway came sweeping into the room. Voices chattered without words. The white-haired man looked down in Daniel’s direction, frowning. Daniel leaned out into the hallway and grasped the handle of the library door. He thought he heard Jack’s voice just as he pulled the heavy door shut, and he hesitated, thinking he might open the door again, just a crack, just to see if it really had been Jack.
But then his gaze fell upon a table near the fireplace, stacked and scattered with books. Many of the bindings looked familiar to him. He wasn’t near enough to make out the titles, but the colors and shapes resembled books from his own shelves. They made him smile. Daniel closed his eyes for a second and inhaled. The faintly musty odor that filled his nostrils signified ‘knowledge’, signified ‘culture’. Spelled ‘home’. His hand dropped from the door handle and he set out to explore.
The books at eye-level in the first bookcase to the right were Norwegian. Daniel ducked his head and found Swedish titles below those. He walked on. The next books he saw were in Korean, and Russian works filled the next case. Above his head, he saw a set of the collected works of Tolstoy bound in faded blue leather. Just like the ones he’d read back in his college days. Filled with nostalgia, he reached up and brushed a fingertip horizontally along the spines.
The books crumbled into blue dust. Daniel sprang back, brushing Tolstoy off his new black suit.
“The fire’s gone out!”
Daniel jerked his head towards the fireplace, where there was now nothing but cold gray ash.
“You should light it.”
He looked up. Three floors up, one of the young women was looking down at him. The other woman came over to the railing. “Yes, do light the fire.”
Frowning, Daniel crossed to the fireplace. He found a box of matches on the mantelpiece. Crouching, he struck a match. It sputtered and died. He got out a second match. It wouldn’t light at all. As he pulled out the third match, he found himself saying, “This is a snare and a deception.” He struck the match and the head broke off.
The room was chilly and filled with the smell of sulfur. Drifting ashes marred the perfection of his shoes. Blue flakes of Tolstoy clung to the palms of his hands.
Daniel dropped the fourth match back into the box, placing it back on the mantelpiece as he stood. There was nothing for him in this place. He turned to head for the door. There was an audible sniff from above. He looked up, and the white-haired man shook his head at him before pointedly turning his back.
Irritated now, with the room, the people in it and himself, Daniel pressed down on the door handle and pushed. Nothing happened. He put his shoulder to the door and pushed harder. Nothing. Snare. Trap. He backed away, took a deep breath and charged.
The door gave with a splintering sound, sending him flying out into the corridor. He landed on his knees on the thick carpet, narrowly avoiding ramming his head into the far wall. He knelt there for a second, a thought having jarred loose. Doors open inward, not outward. He scrambled to his feet, panting, and looked towards the library. The door, unmarred, stood wide as before, protruding out into the corridor most improperly. He should have noticed earlier. But he’d been distracted by the inviting fire, which even now crackled and popped behind its grate.
Deception. Daniel fled down the hallway.
The room at the end of it was dark now. The party was over, or had moved on. But Daniel didn’t know where else to go, so he stepped through the open door.
There was a fireplace here, too, and Daniel slowly moved towards it. The fire was little more than embers, and its shadowy light concealed more than it revealed. A sofa stood before the hearth, and as Daniel drew even with the end of it he could see just enough to know that Jack was the man lying on it, making love to a woman. Or maybe just making out. The more Daniel strained to see the less he was certain of what he saw.
He stood there, uneasy. He thought longingly of the library, but only for a fleeting moment. There was no reason for him to go back there, but what was his reason for standing here? What was he waiting for?
For Jack.
For Jack to see him. To come to him. To leave her….
Something fluttered in his throat. In the same moment that he understood why he waited, he knew there was no need to wait. “Jack,” he called softly.
There was a brief silence, and then he heard Jack’s voice murmuring something. Clothing rustled and springs creaked. Shadows rose and came towards him.
Jack took him by the shoulders. With a wry smile and a nod of concession to Daniel, the woman brushed by them in a cloud of perfume, blocking off the light from the corridor for a second as she left the room. “I thought you weren’t going to come,” Jack said, sounding worried.
“I’ll always come,” Daniel answered from his heart. He weighed the truth of his reply. There was a long pause. “Eventually,” he added.
“I won’t always be able to wait.” It wasn’t apology or explanation or warning. Just simple fact.
“I know.” Daniel stepped in closer, took Jack in his arms. “You won’t have to.”
They held each other, swaying together. A pinprick of light from the ceiling shone down on them, grew.
There was a rustle of activity over in the corner of the room as the band, who’d never left, who’d been waiting quietly in the darkness, gathered up their instruments and began to play a soft tune.
Feet gliding across the floor in easy, perfect unison, Jack and Daniel danced, the gold of their wedding bands glinting and gleaming under the spotlight.
~~~~
“Daniel.” The voice at the other end of the line was cool and cautious.
“I was wrong,” Daniel blurted.
There was a brief pause, and he heard Jack inhale. “About?”
“Everything.” Even though it was a secure line, even though he wasn’t going to spell anything out, Daniel instinctively lowered his voice. “There’s nothing for me there.”
Atlantis. A lifetime, another lifetime of study. Snare and deception. Time to leave the library behind. Atlantis was no sanctuary; and ‘sanctuary’ implied there was something from which he was running.
Jack cleared his throat. “This is my last week, you know.”
“I handed in my resignation ten minutes ago.” Daniel’s heart was pounding as he listened to Jack breathe.
“Yeah? I’d just about given up hoping you’d come around.” Jack’s voice trembled on the last word.
“I’ll always come around,” Daniel promised. “Eventually.”
princessofg and
troyswann performed admirable beta duties, making this a much better and clearer story. My thanks to both of them, and special mention to
starting_gate and
delphia2000 for helping me over a rough spot, when words failed and I flailed!
IN THE FULLNESS OF TIME
The chocolate-brown carpet was thick and luxurious. Daniel seemed to sink into it with every step. The walls of the corridor were hung with a silken damask paper, ivory and golden beige. High on the left-hand wall, a row of elegant electric sconces receded into the distance. The open door at the end of the hallway seemed a long way off, and Daniel tried to count the sconces to estimate how much farther he had to go. But he was confused by the fact that the perspective was off, askew, out of kilter. The corridor should look narrower at the far end, but instead it seemed to sweep open in a dizzying fashion.
But the doorway he was headed toward was small. Looked small, smaller even than was to be expected. Still, Daniel could see the revealed sliver of the well-lit room very clearly, could see people circulating, see the jewel-tones of the women’s dresses, eclipsed by and in turn eclipsing the darker tones of the men’s suits. A white-jacketed waiter with a tray of cocktails swept past the door, and there in his wake was Jack.
Faint murmurs of conversation, laughter, the clink of glasses, a band warming up somewhere in the remote and concealed recesses of the room.
Jack in dark charcoal-gray, head turned, smiling at Daniel.
Daniel’s feet stopped moving. He looked down at them. Something flickered, reflected in the high polish of his shoes.
He looked to his right. A doorway he hadn’t noticed, with the door flung open wide as if to say ‘welcome’, and a fireplace against the far wall beckoning warmly. He turned and stepped closer. Deep, comfortable-looking leather chairs were grouped around the fireplace. Bookshelves came into view.
Jack’s voice, very faint.
A library. He took another step. A circular library. Daniel crossed the threshold, his gaze sweeping around the room eagerly. Books, floor to ceiling, shelves gently curving into the shape of the room. Narrow open spiral staircases nestled into the round corners at either end of the wall containing the fireplace. Daniel tilted his head back, staring through the open center of the structure. Up, up and up. The library soared more stories than he could see. Light flooded down through vast windows that crowned the head-high shelves lining the exterior curve of each grilled walkway of a floor. Wrought-iron safety railings ringed the interior curves.
Two floors up, a white-haired man leafed through a book. A floor above him, two young women were scanning shelves, pulling books out, looking at the covers and pushing them back in. There was movement visible much higher up, and the sound of hard soles on metal steps echoed distantly in the otherwise hushed atmosphere.
A wave of laughter and raucous music from the party at the end of the hallway came sweeping into the room. Voices chattered without words. The white-haired man looked down in Daniel’s direction, frowning. Daniel leaned out into the hallway and grasped the handle of the library door. He thought he heard Jack’s voice just as he pulled the heavy door shut, and he hesitated, thinking he might open the door again, just a crack, just to see if it really had been Jack.
But then his gaze fell upon a table near the fireplace, stacked and scattered with books. Many of the bindings looked familiar to him. He wasn’t near enough to make out the titles, but the colors and shapes resembled books from his own shelves. They made him smile. Daniel closed his eyes for a second and inhaled. The faintly musty odor that filled his nostrils signified ‘knowledge’, signified ‘culture’. Spelled ‘home’. His hand dropped from the door handle and he set out to explore.
The books at eye-level in the first bookcase to the right were Norwegian. Daniel ducked his head and found Swedish titles below those. He walked on. The next books he saw were in Korean, and Russian works filled the next case. Above his head, he saw a set of the collected works of Tolstoy bound in faded blue leather. Just like the ones he’d read back in his college days. Filled with nostalgia, he reached up and brushed a fingertip horizontally along the spines.
The books crumbled into blue dust. Daniel sprang back, brushing Tolstoy off his new black suit.
“The fire’s gone out!”
Daniel jerked his head towards the fireplace, where there was now nothing but cold gray ash.
“You should light it.”
He looked up. Three floors up, one of the young women was looking down at him. The other woman came over to the railing. “Yes, do light the fire.”
Frowning, Daniel crossed to the fireplace. He found a box of matches on the mantelpiece. Crouching, he struck a match. It sputtered and died. He got out a second match. It wouldn’t light at all. As he pulled out the third match, he found himself saying, “This is a snare and a deception.” He struck the match and the head broke off.
The room was chilly and filled with the smell of sulfur. Drifting ashes marred the perfection of his shoes. Blue flakes of Tolstoy clung to the palms of his hands.
Daniel dropped the fourth match back into the box, placing it back on the mantelpiece as he stood. There was nothing for him in this place. He turned to head for the door. There was an audible sniff from above. He looked up, and the white-haired man shook his head at him before pointedly turning his back.
Irritated now, with the room, the people in it and himself, Daniel pressed down on the door handle and pushed. Nothing happened. He put his shoulder to the door and pushed harder. Nothing. Snare. Trap. He backed away, took a deep breath and charged.
The door gave with a splintering sound, sending him flying out into the corridor. He landed on his knees on the thick carpet, narrowly avoiding ramming his head into the far wall. He knelt there for a second, a thought having jarred loose. Doors open inward, not outward. He scrambled to his feet, panting, and looked towards the library. The door, unmarred, stood wide as before, protruding out into the corridor most improperly. He should have noticed earlier. But he’d been distracted by the inviting fire, which even now crackled and popped behind its grate.
Deception. Daniel fled down the hallway.
The room at the end of it was dark now. The party was over, or had moved on. But Daniel didn’t know where else to go, so he stepped through the open door.
There was a fireplace here, too, and Daniel slowly moved towards it. The fire was little more than embers, and its shadowy light concealed more than it revealed. A sofa stood before the hearth, and as Daniel drew even with the end of it he could see just enough to know that Jack was the man lying on it, making love to a woman. Or maybe just making out. The more Daniel strained to see the less he was certain of what he saw.
He stood there, uneasy. He thought longingly of the library, but only for a fleeting moment. There was no reason for him to go back there, but what was his reason for standing here? What was he waiting for?
For Jack.
For Jack to see him. To come to him. To leave her….
Something fluttered in his throat. In the same moment that he understood why he waited, he knew there was no need to wait. “Jack,” he called softly.
There was a brief silence, and then he heard Jack’s voice murmuring something. Clothing rustled and springs creaked. Shadows rose and came towards him.
Jack took him by the shoulders. With a wry smile and a nod of concession to Daniel, the woman brushed by them in a cloud of perfume, blocking off the light from the corridor for a second as she left the room. “I thought you weren’t going to come,” Jack said, sounding worried.
“I’ll always come,” Daniel answered from his heart. He weighed the truth of his reply. There was a long pause. “Eventually,” he added.
“I won’t always be able to wait.” It wasn’t apology or explanation or warning. Just simple fact.
“I know.” Daniel stepped in closer, took Jack in his arms. “You won’t have to.”
They held each other, swaying together. A pinprick of light from the ceiling shone down on them, grew.
There was a rustle of activity over in the corner of the room as the band, who’d never left, who’d been waiting quietly in the darkness, gathered up their instruments and began to play a soft tune.
Feet gliding across the floor in easy, perfect unison, Jack and Daniel danced, the gold of their wedding bands glinting and gleaming under the spotlight.
~~~~
“Daniel.” The voice at the other end of the line was cool and cautious.
“I was wrong,” Daniel blurted.
There was a brief pause, and he heard Jack inhale. “About?”
“Everything.” Even though it was a secure line, even though he wasn’t going to spell anything out, Daniel instinctively lowered his voice. “There’s nothing for me there.”
Atlantis. A lifetime, another lifetime of study. Snare and deception. Time to leave the library behind. Atlantis was no sanctuary; and ‘sanctuary’ implied there was something from which he was running.
Jack cleared his throat. “This is my last week, you know.”
“I handed in my resignation ten minutes ago.” Daniel’s heart was pounding as he listened to Jack breathe.
“Yeah? I’d just about given up hoping you’d come around.” Jack’s voice trembled on the last word.
“I’ll always come around,” Daniel promised. “Eventually.”