Yesterday (A EUReKA Fanfic) : Chapters 0&1

[snarkyandsparky]

Title: Yesterday  (0&1)
Author: snarkyandsparky
Catagory: Angst, humour, romance, slash
Fandom: EUReKA
Pairing: Jack/Nathan
Rating: NC:17 eventually
Word Count: 3,263
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I like to play with them once in a while...
Author's Note: I have a million thanks to four very special people,
brighids_fire, molleo, and
coke_monkey.
Warning: Character Death. Spoiler: eps 304
Summary: Nathan Stark died yesterday.

                                                                               0.

Intro:

As the alarm went off, Jack immediately opened his eyes and stared at the vaulted ceiling directly above him.

His mind had been awake long before his body was willing to admit it. His consciousness was quickly catching up to the cold feeling of dread curling in the pit of his stomach, the clammy sick feeling he’d been resolutely pushing to the back of his mind as he had struggled to stay asleep. Although he quietly reassured his house that he was indeed awake, Jack made no move to get off the bed; he simply lay there listening to the muffled sound of pouring rain on the bunker top and let yesterday's events play over and over in his mind's eye…

Time had turned over on itself yesterday, again and again, replaying only for him the same twelve hours until he had amassed enough knowledge and experience to finally understand that he had to turn to the right people in order to bring time back around to itself.

When it was over, Jack had let his own mind push the reality of the situation to the recesses of his psyche in order to yield comfort to those who needed it more at the time. Then he had quietly left and returned to the bunker and slept. Choosing to close his eyes, mind, and heart to what had happened; hoping that if he put off thinking about it for long enough it would dull the emotions he knew he would eventually be forced to feel. The very emotions that were beginning to creep back in right at this very moment.

He turned over onto his stomach; his eyes tightly clenched in barely-harnessed pain and let out a small groan, the low sound muffled by the pillow beneath his face. The reality here was simple...Jack was not ready to face the day as yet. Even the threat of S.A.R.A.H.'s blaring alarm was not enough to persuade Eureka’s usually punctual Town Sheriff otherwise.

Dr. Nathan Stark had died yesterday, and Jack Carter was not ready to start today knowing what Eureka had lost yesterday.

Sheriff Carter, Dr. Deacon is at the door.

Jack hesitated for only a moment before groaning into his pillow.

“Let him in, S.A.R.A.H.”

Henry might be the one person Jack could stand facing before having to head to Global and see Allison and the others. As he thought about the Global Dynamics Director his heart clenched slightly as he remembered her yesterday, picture perfect in that wedding dress, the myriad of emotions crossing her face as Jack delivered the news that the man who for two years had rivalled him for her affections and won, had lost his life in a last act of noble self-sacrifice.

Determinedly forcing the thoughts from his mind, Jack slowly moved off the pillow and opened his eyes. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he sat up with his back to the doorway. Today was the funeral ceremony. He could analyse how he felt about Stark’s sacrifice on his own time; today had to be about him being there for Allison and Kevin.

Jack heard Henry clear his throat from somewhere behind him and he nodded tiredly, his eyes still focused on the floor, trying to clear his mind, “I’m coming down in a sec Henry. Can you…can you get S.A.R.A.H. to put on some coffee or something?”

There was a moment of silence before S.A.R.A.H. replied;

My sensors detect Dr. Deacon currently within the living room quadrants, Sheriff Carter.

Immediately Jack’s right hand slid under his pillow and closed around his Glock handgun, then swiftly and simultaneously he made a wide arc with it in hand, sliding off the bed into a silent crouch, with one knee firmly planted on the bare floor. With his weapon now steadily pointing towards the source of the noise, the tiny hairs at the back of his neck rose warningly as his eyes stared firmly focused down the barrel of his gun. What he saw as he aimed steadily at the small black couch that was situated against the wall at the far end of his bedroom almost made Jack fire on sight. Only the pure astonishment of familiarity stopped that from happening.

Completely ignoring the fact that there was now a handgun pointed directly at his head, Nathan Stark cocked his head to the left and smiled at Jack Carter. “Bad dream, Sheriff?” the familiar mocking smirk firmly in place as their gazes locked.

Recognising the voice a second time, Jack’s eyes flew completely open and his hand wavered only for a second before strengthening his position and listening for anything that might prevent him from firing; pure adrenaline flowed through his system and his heart pounded like a canon being repeatedly fired. Despite the fact that he’d lived in this town for over two years and that a sensation of borderline desperate hope was trying to claw out of his throat, nothing could make Jack hesitate in knowing that what he was seeing was the impossible and very likely dangerous.

S.A.R.A.H's voice broke through the heavy silence,

Is something wrong Sheriff Carter?

Jack's head twitched only slightly. There was something very wrong...

Nathan Stark had died yesterday.

1.

Morning Madness

“Bad dream, Sheriff?”

The main bedroom of the bunker was so quiet that Jack could hear the thundering of his own blood drumming through his veins.

Nathan Stark shifted slightly in his seat, careful not to make any sudden movements, and waited for Carter to speak. The low muffled sound of raindrops that could be heard above them got louder as the rain thundered down harder on the bunker top, but still neither man broke the silence.

Jack just stared. He didn’t move a muscle, he didn’t stand and head for the door, he did not speak, and most importantly he did not fire his weapon. He simply held his crouch and stared directly into those ocean green eyes calmly looking back at him, gauging him for a reaction.

Nathan waited, he did not speak or even attempt to stand, he simply stilled and mentally weighed the various options that Carter had here. He could scream like a girl, he could bolt for the door, he could always shoot him, or in classic Carter bluntness he could -

“You’re dead.”

-just do that.

Despite being in the unappealing position of looking down the barrel of a 9mm automatic handgun, Nathan Stark rolled his eyes at the predictable Carter outburst. Habit made him really wanted to reply something cutting in return but as he’d been waiting two hours for him to wake up, spooking him and/or getting shot at by Carter was not an option right now.

He moved slowly, sitting up straighter on the couch and raising his hands up slowly in a placating gesture, “Carter…” he offered in a low soothing voice.

“Oh you’re so dead.” Jack intoned, gripping at the weapon under his hand and wilfully ignoring the fact that an individual who looked and sounded a whole lot like the recently deceased Nathan Stark was speaking to him.

“Carter, I...” Nathan tried, but got interrupted again.

“Very dead. Dead dead.” Jack assured him nodding, “As in not alive.” As though either one of them needed any more clarification on the matter.

At this point Nathan decided that he would just wait it out. He sighed and sat back against the couch, folding his arms against his chest and holding eye contact, but waiting for the Sheriff to get himself under control.

Jack’s heart was pounding so hard that he was positive the other man could hear it. As his mind grappled to come to a decision, blue eyes stared into green again for a full fifteen seconds before the gun was finally lowered, but not discarded. Moving slowly, Jack stood up from his crouch on the floor.

His voice shook slightly, “I was there…yesterday….” He was speaking more to himself than anyone else as yesterday’s events played out in his mind.

“Funnily enough, so was I.” Stark agreed amiably, still sitting with his arms crossed on the couch.

Jack continued, his voice low, “You disappeared…you said ‘See you around Jack.’ and then you…disintegrated…I told Allison you...” Jack broke off his babbling, swallowing hard.

He suddenly glanced back at his bed, “Am I dreaming?” half expecting to see himself still laying there.

Nathan smirked; he really couldn’t help himself. Unfolding his arms and sitting forward slightly, he asked with a small smile, “Do you usually dream about me in your bedroom, Carter?”

Jack did not smile; he was in fact putting a whole lot of energy into not having a complete mental breakdown as his previous thoughts began filtering back in. Not a minute ago he was silently mourning the loss of this man, silently grieving at the fact that Nathan Stark had to die so that everyone else could live, and on his wedding day of all days.

Not to mention the fact that his absence had forced Jack to admit to himself how much Stark had meant to him and to everyone around them, a fact that Jack had been hard pressed to ignore these past two years.

Yet here was Stark… sitting on his couch in the same blue suit from yesterday with his jacket neatly folded in his lap, looking at him expectantly, as though nothing had happened. Mocking him and not to mention breathing, just as much as he had been the last time Jack had seen him; right before he died, Jack had to remind himself.

Swallowing hard Jack broke his gaze and glanced around the room, before looking back quickly at the man seated in front of him, who was still watching him steadily in return.

“This isn’t funny…” Jack said softly, meeting his eyes, a glimmer of repressed emotion clear in the slight shake of his voice. “If someone’s playing a joke …”

“Carter…Jack,” Nathan interrupted again, making as if to stand up, resting the jacket next to him. He quickly slowed his movements as Jack again raised the gun level to his head.

“Or I can stay here…” he added matter of factly as he raised his hands slightly in cooperation and sat back.

“Are you for real?” Jack asked softly. He did not know what to react to first. If this really was Nathan Stark, Jack should not be pointing a gun anywhere near to him, but until someone told him what the hell was going on, he was taking no chances.

Nathan stilled and considered the question posed, unsure of how to answer it.

When he got no response, Jack asked again a bit more forcibly, “Is this real, Stark?”

To Jack's surprise Nathan’s cocky smile faded as the tall dark-haired scientist shook his head slightly, “I’m not sure...”

“How the hell can you not be sure?” Jack demanded, stepping forward automatically,

“You’re in my bedroom! You died yesterday, I saw it! You floated away in a million pieces inside your stupid clock!”

“I remember that too…” Nathan admitted with his eyes still downcast, his head shaking slightly. “I did die yesterday,” as if convincing himself as well as Jack.

“So what the hell are you doing here?” Jack demanded angrily. “Go into the light!”

Nathan rolled his eyes, “Carter...”

“I wake up and you’re in my bedroom?” Jack kept rambling on louder, lowering his gun slightly and taking another step forward.

“Carter...” Nathan tried to interrupt his rambling.

Jack ignored him. Rising his gun purposely he stepped closer until he was standing as close as possible to the couch without actually touching it. Nathan kept his eyes on him and wisely stayed quiet as Jack’s gun was once again level between his eyes.

While staring the man directly in the eye, gauging the sincerity of his words, Jack’s mind had a brief but fierce internal battle. This was Nathan Stark, he was sure of it. He had no idea how the man had come to be in his bedroom at this moment but all of his instincts confirmed the identity. Jack exhaled slowly and let the gun fall slowly to his side.

Letting out a short breath of his own, Stark stared up at him, “Happy now?” he bit out a little angrily.

“Yeah, I’m ecstatic. Now I know I’m going nuts!” Jack snapped back. “What the hell is going on?”

“We need to talk,” Nathan said simply, and then added pointedly, “Without the gun.” And nodded to Jack himself. “And preferably with clothes.”

Jack ignored him, well as much as you can ignore someone who was totally freaking you out. He stalked back over to his bed, grabbing at his jeans, pulling them on while half expecting to wake up at any minute.

With his back to the couch, Jack rolled his eyes even as he continued his previous tirade.

“Talk? We just agreed that you died yesterday, Stark. Dead people don’t talk to me, so I’m obviously stuck in an incredibly bad nightmare and I can’t shoot you cause that’s a bad idea, dead or not.”

“Jack…”

A warm hand grabbed his upper arm, which stopped Jack’s rambling immediately as complete panic rushed through him. He spun around to see that Stark had crossed the room and was towering over him. He had not heard Nathan move closer but the touch was warm...and very real. As he looked up at Stark’s face, the man looked as surprised as Jack felt.

“You’re real?” The words tumbled out of Jack’s mouth as he didn’t even bother to try and mask the soaring relief in his voice.

“I thought I was having a mental breakdown or something…mental breakdowns don’t touch me,” his right hand automatically rising to hold on to Stark’s left arm, again talking mostly to himself.

Squeezing the man’s arm slightly, Jack felt every emotion he had woken up with rise to his throat and the knot in his stomach lessened slightly…he could feel him, this wasn’t a dream. Looking back up he saw Stark staring back at him just as intently, and he said what had been on the tip of his tongue since the moment this began, the slight amusement falling from his gaze,

“You died yesterday...” the accusation was clear in his voice.

“That didn’t happen before…” Nathan muttered, now watching intently between where he was grasping Jack’s forearm and where Jack was holding him

Jack’s head shot up, “What do you mean? What didn’t happen before? Before when? Before what?”

Nathan shook his head frowning. “I’ve been sitting here yelling for you to wake up for the past two hours now.”

His fingers were carefully squeezing Jack’s arm, as though testing out the touch,

“You didn’t hear me then either...” He caught the blonde man’s questioning gaze and continued, “I even tried throwing things at you.” He gestured to the short pile of magazines on the couch.

“Hey,” Jack interjected indignantly, finally pulling his arm out of the man’s grasp and simultaneously releasing him and taking a step backwards.

Nathan rolled his eyes, letting his hand drop back to his side. “Focus Carter.”

Jack flushed slightly. “Right, sorry. You’d think I’d be used to things like this by now, continue…” unconsciously rubbing the spot where Stark had just been gripping.

Nathan looked back at the couch, his gaze moving from the seat to Jack’s bed, replaying the moment in his mind’s eye. “That magazine…it would leave my hand, on course, but when I looked back it was in its original spot.”

He stopped and looked back at Jack. “I tried touching you, but I couldn’t.”

Jack’s arms folded around himself, shaking his head disbelievingly, “Now I know one of us is going mad…” Then a reluctant smile started to spread across his face.

“Well, clearly you can touch me now. Everything’s ok! Why don’t you just explain what wacked out crazy science thing brought you back, and let’s go tell Allison.”

He looked up smiling slightly at the other man, confused when Stark shook his head impatiently. “Carter, you don’t understand!”

Jack shrugged indifferently. “Tell me something I don’t know Captain Obvious!”

“Carter I have no idea what happened to me!” Rolling his eyes irritably Stark stepped back to the couch, “Look!” He reached for the magazine.

Jack rolled his eyes, “Let’s just get you to Global, all the funny stuff starts there...” He cut himself off as Stark looked up at him, the seriousness of his gaze stilling Jack’s words.

Jack’s eyes followed Nathan’s gaze, the hairs at the back of his neck again rising warningly as he saw what Stark had been trying to tell him before, his fingers never made contact with the book, they seemed to pass right through it.

“Ok that’s new," he stated without amusement, taking a step forwards and angling his head sideways, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Stark’s fingers disappearing into the magazine. His own fingers began reaching towards the book, unable to believe what he was seeing with his own eyes.

“Jack we’re going to be late...” Henry’s low voice drifted through the door, coming closer to the bedroom.

Still not quite believing what he was seeing, Jack immediately felt relief sear through him as he drew back his hand. If anyone had a clue, Henry would know what was going on here.

Dragging his eyes away from the magazine he clapped a hand to Nathan’s shoulder. “Ok, still solid! Solid is good,” he mumbled more to reassure himself than Stark because he had no helpful words at this point.

He crossed over to the door calling out eagerly, “Henry, in here!”

The engineer was just stepping off the staircase and onto the other end of the hallway.

Feeling slightly less freaked out at the magic act Stark was putting on, knowing that Henry was about to walk in and enter some sanity into the situation, Jack turned back to the couch, saying comfortingly,

“Henry will know what’s going...” cutting himself off in mid-sentence because now the room was empty.

Stark was gone. Whirling around he scanned the entire small room, but the dark-haired scientist was nowhere in sight. Jack quickly crossed over to the couch. The magazine was still laying there, but Stark’s jacket was gone.

When Henry Deacon entered the main bedroom a minute later he found Jack on his hands and knees peering under the bed dressed only in a pair of jeans.

“Jack?” Henry called, glancing at the clock on the wall, “We have to meet Allison and Kevin for...”

His voice trailed off as Jack jumped up from the floor, strode over to the small black couch situated at the back of the room, grabbed a magazine off it only to stare at it for a moment before striding over to the closet on the opposite side of the room, flinging it wide open, clearly agitated and obviously looking for something.

“What’s going on?” Henry asked simply, watching him carefully. There was something erratic in Jack’s movements, clearly something had upset him, and was continuing to do so.

Jack just turned and stared at him, his hand flying behind his head in bewilderment, looking between the small couch situated at the back of the room, the magazine still in his hand, and the unmade bed.

“Jack?” Henry prompted again, folding his arms and waiting for an explanation for the irregular behaviour.

Jack just stared back at Henry, eyes unseeing, not knowing where to even begin.