He tilted his head slightly to the side as one of the corgis snapped at another behind him, but he didn't take his eyes from the dark landscape outside the window.
It was empty now. The agents had debunked, his mother was up in her bed, and the dogs were all safely contained within the house. Of that, he was certain.
But it had looked empty before as well.
When had he allowed himself to change? When had the world he had immersed himself in softened and blinded him? When had he become the person he had once mocked others for being?
It hadn't been obvious in the mirror. Not in the way he had spoken, nor in the way he preferred to dress, nor in his hobbies... And yet, it had. Now that he was aware of it, he could see it. He should never have been taken. He should have been well aware of his abductors before they got close – should have implemented measures to insure they never got close.
His mother shifted in her room above, and he glanced up before stepping away from the window to sit beside the fire.
And when had death become something to fear? When had his own pain or harm been something that its anticipation alone could inspire such a reaction? It was for him to inspire those reactions in others – not for them to do so in him.
Perhaps it would have been better if Jethro had been a few seconds later.
He had long outlived his usefulness. This was a new time, a new world. Here, there was no place for him. Agents retired at forty, and he was many years past that mark. He was many years past, and he had lost his abilities.
It had been necessary, he accepted that. It would hardly do for a civilian doctor, an elderly man, to be so sharply aware of the minutiae around him. It would hardly have done for a man dedicated to healing – or in the profession that was at least – to be able to turn anything to a weapon. It would hardly have done for a man that looked so similar to the assassin to have the same pragmatic outlook on life, or the same personality.
He closed his eyes, resting his head back on the chair.
He had given up everything to survive – a part of him seeking to avoid the cessation of his existence even as he surrendered willing to what may come with no care for his well being. He had given up what family he had – what family he had adopted – to serve his country. He had given up his country to serve the world. He had given up his invulnerability for a friend. And in the end, he had given up his life to survive.
He was Scottish now. He had a mother that he doted on. He had dogs. He was prone to verbose rambling on barely related subjects. He cared for those he worked with, and allowed them to see this.
Where in this new man was his true self? Wherever was his true self?
And yet...
And yet, he was content.
He could not – would not – allow himself to continue to slip into complacency and luxurious comfort, but this life that had become a part of him was a blank slate. There was none looking for him for vengeance, none looking for him to take down or protect the world. He worked in a lab, studied the sciences. There was no blood on his hands now that he had shed – no more blood was being painted on his account.
Here, nothing depended on him. He observed, measured, and recorded – another did the work. He was not an agent. He was a doctor.
This would never be him, but he could be this.
AN: I noticed – chiefly from Stargate but also in a few other series – that 'tabula rasa' tends to be the title of episodes where main characters lose their memory. It was just a brief observance, but then it came back and rather inspired this story. Now, obviously, he hasn't actually lost his memory – just repressed it. 'Tabula rasa' also means 'absence of preconceived notions or actions or a clean slate' as well as 'a blank slate of mind as an infant's mind', and the former definition applied here. Probably more loosely than I see it – but nonetheless it does. First, this was going to be another one set circa Ari's mechanisations, but then I saw it fit SO much better after the second series' episode Meat Puzzle – which for whatever reason still fascinates me. 1-February - 2016