As usual, French in italics. You'll get to see the SG1 a little, but not for long before… you'll see
It should have been a day like any other, the sun shining and the heat blazing. A typical summer day in south of France. As she set foot in the office after her last lunch break, Frances couldn't help but sigh. In 7 months, she had met nice people that could have become friends, especially those two teammates that came from the same engineering school, a year apart from her. They had gone to the beach, shared waffles on Sunday mornings, and biked to work many times. But this easy acquaintance simply couldn't get any further.
There also was this lady from the front desk who had organised things so neatly for her departure, and hugged her a thousand times, and the dozen computer science guys with whom she interacted on a daily basis. Even the building, this rounded form on top of the hill overlooking the sea when the weather was nice, was now a part of her. Part of her life, part of her past. Good riddance?
By leaving this place, she also left her career, her studies, everything she had worked for in hopes of a normal life behind. And despite the harshness of her boss, and the stupidity of this job, it still sent a pang to her heart. Frances had a knack for binding with people, she just couldn't help it. Any nice gesture thrown her way and she melted, any connexion and she was hooked. A nice change from her students years where she never let anyone approach.
What had changed? The acute knowledge that life was short, and she should enjoy every single moment of it. There were so many deaths in her wake, so many friends left behind and she never wanted to feel the same regret again. The one after Boromir's death, thinking how they had stupidly fought sometimes. Regrets after Tristan's death … of an unknown nature at the time. Regrets after leaving middle earth, leaving those close friends behind…
Tomorrow, who knew what she would be doing? Battling aliens? Struggling against giant plants? Being captured by other life forms? Being burnt alive by the Ori? As a matter of fact, nothing of this, but Frances, for once, was oblivious about what awaited her. How could she even fathom where the Keeper of Time's duty could take her?
Damn. For the moment, she knew only this; tomorrow, she would be locked in the 49th level of the base or going through the gate. The lazy life of sunshine and seaside was over.
A hand slipped into hers, squeezing slightly, before Frances pulled her swipe card to get access the main hall. A smile quirked her lips; she didn't jump anymore when Kristan surprised her. She had got used to his silent ways, and to his presence. His touch was so familiar, so comforting that she would recognise with her eyes closed. His sturdiness grounded her, the poise of the silent knight. A shadow, to guard her back and brighten her days.
Tomorrow, wherever she was… Kristan would be there. And she wouldn't get back to her old life for the world. Ever since her knight had walked back into his life, the colours had brightened in his wake. Frances was living again. Now more than ever, she was determined to preserve peace so that she could enjoy it with the man she had chosen as her mate.
— "The flats are settled, and here's the key to the furniture storage unit," he said.
Efficient, as always. Kristan had worked with the moving companies to relieve their respective flats from furniture and cardboxes and stored it all in containers until they knew their next destination. One less thing to worry about.
— "Good, you keep it."
Kristan nodded, pushing the item in his pocket – the key to their life – before he circled her waist and dragged her for a kiss. And despite the scorching heat, Frances didn't even think of pulling away. His tongue swirled in her mouth languidly, his lips dancing in the sweetest of caresses. When the kiss ended, Frances had almost forgotten why she was there. The young woman blinked, taking in the linen tunic that covered his well-defined chest, the same one they had bought together. She smiled, her fingers grazing the medieval collar, then caressing the tips of his mid-long hair. A nice choice for the day; she had also made an effort to look professional despite the crushing sunshine, pulling out linen pants and a cotton blouse with short sleeves that matched Kristan's style. Her hair was pulled tight in a French braid; way too hot to allow it along her back unless she wanted to end up a sweaty mess. The reddish strands contrasted with the light colours of her top, and she had applied a little make-up. Classy, but not too formal. Just the right amount of respect to welcome the President, but nothing over the top to indicate they were grovelling. This wasn't a charity opera.
Frances sent an appreciative glance to her man; he looked fantastic in his understated glory. She knew they would look underdressed compared to the managers; she couldn't care less. Class was about the right form and material, not about accessories and looking like a Christmas tree. And both of them felt better knowing they could move properly in their attire; with Jack O'Neill here, you never knew what could happen.
The white tents, aligned on the parking lot to welcome the president party, looked neat. Cicadas sung their usual song and the pine trees upon the surrounding hill trembled in the overheated air, the ground burnt yellow by the summer sun. She couldn't fathom how the security people would survive this heat with their Kevlar vest. If Jack wore his uniform, he was going to sweat to death. A grumpy O'Neill, oh no! Perhaps it wasn't too late to tell him the temperature.
Fishing her mobile phone from her bag, Frances sat upon the little wall bordering the palm trees that faced her office.
'It's very hot today. If you can forgo the uniform, I advise you to shed it' — Frances.
It didn't take long – not more than a couple of other kisses – for her mobile to ding.
'No can do. ETA 15.30' – Jack
Frances showed her screen to Kristan before writing her answer, her man's lips nibbling at her neck. It took her twice as long to type this last message as her brain had trouble concentrating.
'Neat. Perfect time for a snack. You will love what they laid out for you.' — Frances
The lovers stayed outside for a while, relishing in the shade provided by the palm trees as they greeted colleagues returning from their lunch break. Most had never met Kristan, nor heard of him so they all seemed rather surprised by his presence – those who cared, at least. The others were just happy to shake his hand and be gone. There was excitement in the air though; a visit by the President of United States put a lot of people on edge. When at last, 2 o'clock came, Frances steeled herself and stood.
— "It's time. I need to handover my work and give my computer back."
Kristan stood as well, brushing a reddish stray curl that had escaped the braid with a loving gesture. The young woman closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. It was weird, to see Frances at work. The dynamic between her co-workers, her occasional conversations, software-related, and the careful glint in her eyes that hid her true nature. Had he worked here, Kristan knew he would have been intrigued by the impressive amount of things she didn't say. Without lying, she was deceptive as hell. But people pursuing a career, especially in a company like this, didn't seem to care much about her hobbies. Nor about the fact that she could travel through time, or had saved the world from aliens a bunch of times. The façade she showed; the normal Frances was just about to disappear. And somehow, Kristan could see how much it affected her.
— "Ready?"
— "Can I ever be? I've never got used to saying goodbye. I feel like I leave a part of me every single time."
The knight nodded, memories of long-lost brothers fresh in his mind. Being the Keeper of Time, Frances had to leave behind more than most.
— "Hey Kristan!"
Frances almost rolled her eyes as Lucie, the ever-besotted fencing student, waved at her former instructor from the parking lot. Behind her, Aurélien, their LARP colleague, sent them a beaming smile but remained silent. Already, Lucie was striding to them.
— "It's great to see you. I thought you had gone back to Denmark, with you quitting and all."
Shedding her sunglasses with the intention to kiss his cheeks the French way, her blue eyes roamed over Kristan in appreciation. Frances stifled a laugh, remembering how the little blonde had described him as 'a bit gruff, a great archer and swordsman. And definitely a looker' at the LARP event. She couldn't fault Lucie's assessment, all of this was true. Especially with his tanned skin and strands discoloured by sun and salt.
— "It's not the same without you," Lucie said, nearly battling her eyelashes.
Her beaming smile, though, fell when she realised how close Frances was standing to her crush. A few feet behind, Aurélien's face sported a wide smile and he came forward with a hand outstretched.
— "Ah, good to see you Kristan. Whatcha doing here? It's not the best day to hop by, with all this nonsense. The security is going to kick you out."
— "I'd like to see them try," Kristan growled playfully.
And for the tiniest of moments, Tristan was back. Her colleagues seemed taken aback, neither knowing if they should laugh until Frances piped in her two cents.
— "Don't worry, he's invited to the party."
Aurélien's rusty eyebrows formed a funny knot, then he shrugged.
— "Really? Good."
It was almost funny how the redhead could accept anything, like he cared about nothing at all. Perhaps it was quite the case. But Lucie still expected a response, and Kristan wasn't shy as his hand slipped around Frances' waist.
— "This is Frances' last day, we're here to say goodbye."
This time, Lucie almost glowered at Frances, her wide blue eyes angered by the obvious affection that existed between her former instructor and his little fairy. When you think that she presented them at the LARP, this truly was unfair! Little did she know that she never stood a chance, being dubbed a child from Kristan's first glance.
— "You are leaving together?" she said, eyes narrowing.
While in truth, she asked 'are you living together ?'
— "Yes."
Kristan didn't know what else to say, neither did he know what the company had told their employees about the President's visit so he didn't elaborate. Lucie huffed, and wished him well before she disappeared in the building with angry strides. Aurélien gave them an uneasy smile and strode after his colleague. As the couple followed, Frances whispered to Kristan's ear.
— "She had the hell of a crush on you. I almost feel sorry for her."
— "I know. Life is a bitch," Kristan answered, choosing to quote General O'Neill.
His heart had chosen fifteen hundred years ago; nothing could be done about it.
Needless to say, that the arrival of Henry Hayes, Mr President in person, was every bit as intimidating as they expected it to be. Most of the employees were stacked in the hall or in the tents when they showed up, security, uniform for Jack and very fancy suit for the President adorned with a pair of sunglasses. He even wore a hat; something Frances and Kristan had not dared doing. The company's bosses were neatly aligned, like a row of servants in the old days – very Downtown Abbey – before the glass panes of the main entrance. To their side, much to the employees' confusions stood The Keeper of Time and the former knight of the round table. Well, to the others, Frances and her boyfriend. Their placement raised many questions among the crowd … they would not be disappointed.
If protocol should have drawn the President to walk up to Caroline first, he ignored it cheekily and strode to Frances at once, sunglasses firmly in place. The young woman knew she shouldn't be surprised; after all, it was the same man who had told Anubis, an ascended villain, to shove it up his… Behind him, General O'Neill awaited with a mischievous smile, hat firmly in place to protect his eyes from the sun.
— "I am glad to see you again, young lady," he said, shaking her hand.
— "Thank you for having me, Mr President," she responded with fondness.
How could she repay that man for the honour?
— "Please call me Henry. You're not on duty today.", he said loud enough to be overheard.
That was the last straw. Albeit the encounter was very informal – despite the thirty or so security guys hiding in the surroundings – he meant to make his point. Frances nodded, a lopsided smile quirking her lips at realising his message. It wasn't an invitation to be on first name basis, no. Just a little low blow to her boss' ego, a few feet away. Frances gave him a genuine smile, amused by his antics until O'Neill engulfed her in a hug, formal hat still in place.
— "Hey kiddo"
By now, the President was shaking Kristan's hand with as much enthusiasm as hers. And for the first time in forever, the former knight seemed slightly awed to meet, in person, a figure he had only seen on TV.
— "An honour to meet you, sir," he said.
— "The honour is shared, if you catch my meaning."
And as Jack's arms released her, Frances realised that Henry Hayes was just as floored to be meeting a former knight of the round table. Tristan was a legend, after all ! Before he strode away to greet her boss – Jean-Pierre – and Caroline, Jack whispered in her ear.
— "I like the view. Too bad this place it is filled with morons."
Frances laughed, and from then, everything went smoothly. Daniel had told Jack that an international company didn't need a translator and that he had work to do. No amount of whining had managed to bend him to Jack's wishes, so the General took his revenge on the buffet while the President was monopolised by Caroline and the other managers. Hayes didn't make it easy for them, frowning upon their bad English, inserting slang here and there just for the fun of it, and telling them that their siege being now in New York, he might have a word or two with the president of their company regarding the way people were treated in their branch. This sent Caroline into a fit that would plague her for months to come. To say that she hated Frances was the understatement of the year.
Amongst the well wishes of her friends, Frances managed to direct Jack to the front desk lady, an American who had managed to perform miracles on the buffet organisation with such a short notice. Before long, they were conversing so fast that most of their neighbours had given up on trying to understand them. Fishing, Oregon, Minnessota and trees popped up randomly in the conversation and Frances left them to their devices. It was nice to see O'Neill genuinely smile, and she wondered if he got enough time with Samantha in the midst of this stressful war.
In truth, this place wasn't filled with morons so much. It still held a lot of kind souls and intelligent people working for morons. Frances hugged and smiled so much that her cheek hurt. It didn't help that Kristan was making his first appearance, gaining a few looks of appraisals amongst the ladies. Still, he didn't leave Frances' side, and every time she introduced him as 'my man', the ghost of a smile lingered on his sensual lips. He had called her his 'woman' after all, and boyfriend didn't even cut it close. At last, Kristan nudged her arm, signalling that Henry Hayes was coming her way.
— "So, are you ready to test Air Force One?" the president asked. "I've had it stacked with French food."
Frances turned around, her jaw slightly slack. Of course, they had flown the plane over, else the world would have known that the President had a new means of transportation. The perspective of using it, though, was the opportunity of a lifetime. How cool was that? And she wasn't the only one to think so given the awed looks she received.
— "As ready as one can be. How was the inbound flight, by the way?"
His sunglasses discarded over his breast pocket, Henry's eyes twinkled merrily.
— "Incredible"
And no more was said on his first flight with the Odyssey. Still, the message was clear. It was time for Frances to give a final goodbye.
— "If you have prepared a speech, I encourage you to give it now. We'll depart in twenty minutes. I've got an important meeting tomorrow."
Frances nodded, shyness invading her mind. She had thought about it, then discarded the idea altogether. She was only twenty-six, not really fit for giving great discourses, especially since the last six months in this place had been a living hell. But then, a hot breath was on her neck and a steady hand landed on her back.
— "Sing it, Frances, if you don't want to say it."
And her heart fluttered, her eyes closing. Yes. This, she could do. And while all eyes turned to her, given that she was now flanked by both the President and General Jack O'Neill of the air force – when did it happen exactly? —Frances climbed on the little wall in front of the entrance.
— "Erm. Unlike some" and she sent a pointed look to the President "I am very bad at making speeches so… Thank you for those who had shown me kindness and support. As for the rest…"
As for the rest, may you get the swing back in your face, ah ! But she couldn't very much say it. So instead, she started singing the parting glass, this traditional Irish song that most people knew and conveyed her feelings quite nicely.
"Oh all the money that e'er I spent
I spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'er I've done
Alas, it was to none but me."
And after singing in front of Aragorn, the elves, Legolas and the knights of the round table, she thought it would come by easy. It didn't, and her throat closed for a moment, hot air rushing from her lungs. But Kristan's hands gripped hers, and he searched her gaze, and then nothing else mattered for the grey depths of his soul looked upon her with such love that she drowned in them.
Then her voice rose above her former colleagues' heads, and it intensified, her power fully deploying as she sang.
"And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all."
And Frances raised her glass, hoping to thank all those who had shown kindness, and chastise those who had refused her that courtesy. Hoping that her voice would convey her love just as well as her anger as the song carried it.
"Oh all the comrades that e'er I've had
Are sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I've had
Would wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call
Good night and joy be with you all
Good night and joy be with you all."
And somehow, it seemed a fitting parting, devoid of useless words and promises to catch up. She knew she never would. But the song was full of sadness and joy alike, and despite the fact that nobody knew what Kristan and she were getting into, they all could share the heartfelt goodbye.
Frances sunk over the double bed with a mighty sigh, het feet dangling in the air. It was but 8 o'clock in Colorado Springs – 3 in the morning in France, but she was exhausted. Flying on Air Force One had certainly brought some awe and excitement, especially after having dodged the journalists at the airport. The plane was everything she had imagined, if not more. Luxury and safety rolled up in a huge Boeing 747. But despite the obvious thrill of flying the famous aeroplane, it wasn't the reason why Frances felt she might pass out before undressing. Her body felt so heavy on the mattress that it took all of her willpower to shift aside and lay properly.
The three hours and a half of meetings with the President had left her brain too mushy to do anything other than rest her head on Kristan's shoulder until Odyssey had beamed them out. Despite his friendly manners – for the stake of her ex-bosses – Henry Hayes had made clear that he expected their cooperation in return until the end of the war with the Ori. He had pulled off his President of United States persona, putting just the right amount of pressure to have them yield to his conditions. Henry Hayes had not retrieved them personally from south of France to let them go. A politician, after all. The fact that Jack O'Neill agreed – they were needed – added an extra layer of debt. Nor Kristan nor Frances felt entitled to say no; they both wanted Earth safe and would do anything to help the cause. Even if it might postpone their road trip by months. Or years. Or kill them eventually.
So back they were at the base, sharing a room, this time. Courtesy of Daniel, probably, or O'Neill who has seen enough of their proximity to know they were now a couple, and fortunately chosen to keep silent about it. Nothing escaped the former members of SG1 after all. Jack had gone straight to Sam's house, or so she thought. Not that she cared much; her brain was too fuzzy to embrace the full extend of today's changes. Saying goodbye in scorching heat in south of Frances, riding Air Force One, being beamed down in the SGC. Phew. Tomorrow – 8:00 – they'd meet with SG1 and try to find a solution to finding the Sangraal. Until then…
The bed shifted slightly and Frances opened one eye to spot Kristan, crouching beside her.
— "Tried, little fairy?"
That was the understatement of the year. The fact that she didn't even try to pop into Daniel's office spoke volumes of her exhaustion.
— "Dead on feet. How you still function is beyond me."
Kristan's eyes twinkled faintly in the artificial light.
— "The scout in me, perhaps. It's a lot to take in."
Frances grunted, reaching for his hand to get him to lay down. When he resisted, she huffed in frustration.
— "I'll shower before I turn in," he explained, dropping a kiss to her forehead.
An unfamiliar whine of protest escaped Frances as she pulled with more strength, effectively bringing Kristan closer.
— "Don't. Stay with me, be my pillow."
The knight humoured her for a moment, winding his arms around her to hug her snugly.
— "It's been a rather hot day for a man."
Although the coldness of being buried under tons of rocks stared to settle in his bones.
— "Yeah. For me too. Still, can't it wait until tomorrow morning?"
The heartfelt plea called a smile to his lips. When tired, Frances behaved like a very cute coddler; she could have been a cat. Still, the faint odour of sweat permeated through his shirt, reminding him unpleasantly how scorching the day had been before they boarded Air Force One.
— "Why?"
His silky voice tickled her ear and the young woman shivered slightly, her hand caressing his chest until it reached its resting place; his beating heart. Her palm sent waves of warmth through the fabric, and Kristan marvelled at the sensation, nearly forgetting he has asked a question in the first place.
— "Because I hate it when you smell like soap. Yours is much better."
Kristan's faint eyebrows shot up, his head turned aside to catch a glimpse of Frances.
— "Sweat and all?"
— "Especially all. You don't realise that sweat is not the dominant note of you, far from it. It is nowhere strong enough to cover the rest … and very localised"
An incredulous smile lifted the corner of his mouth, and Kristan bestowed a tiny kiss upon Frances' upturned nose.
— "You are probably the only woman in the world who is asking her man not to shower."
Frances chuckled, tightening her grip on her man playfully; a challenge for him to fight back and escape to the bathroom. Not a minute later, she was out like a light, fully clothed. Her breath fanned upon his shirt, her warmth seeping along his side, soft curves pressed against him. Suddenly, the shower didn't see so appealing… His long limbs relished in the mattress, slowly sinking in the plushness of sheets and covers. Kristan sighed and pulled one of the blankets awkwardly over them. He was asleep in less time than it took to whistle a lullaby.
